


Long Road Home

by acquiescence_ (malawi)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malawi/pseuds/acquiescence_
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world ended with fire. Jeff was living his perfect life, when it was all taken from him. His wife, his friends, his job, his home, his life ... are all gone now. All that is left is burning. He's on a journey now, just him and the road trying to make his way in a world that he no longer know as he tries to cope and maybe put his life back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Road Home

They said the world would end with a whimper, or was it a bang? Hell, he couldn't remember anymore – not like it mattered, one way or the other. The world didn't end with either. He couldn't really say how it ended, to tell you the truth; Jeff was too busy trying to stay alive, trying to keep Mary alive – though he hadn't done a very good job with that. The world was falling apart around them and he couldn't even save his own wife – he'd tried, of course, so many people had tried – he was lucky that he hadn't been killed too, though he didn't look at it like that. Why should he have to live through this? What was special about him?

The world ended with fire.

It happened almost overnight. One night they went to bed and everything was right, the world was as it should have been, and the next morning it was burning. They still didn't know how it had happened.

All they knew was that everything was gone, so many people had been killed, and there was no way to tell how many had survived; some were guessing the number was in the billions, or at least that's what Jeff had been hearing, when he dared pass through a town. After it happened he was sure he was the only one left – that he was alone in this wasteland – and it was weeks before he happened across another human. Weeks. And then they'd tried to kill him, aimed shotguns at him and yelled; it seemed the end of the world made people a bit jumpy.

After that first run in with survivors, Jeff stopped trying to make contact when he didn't have to. There were times when he needed to go into towns; bullets didn't grow on trees, after all, and sometimes he just wanted information, but for the most part he kept to the road. He preferred it that way, it was safer that way – no one trying to kill him or steal his food. He didn't have to worry about mouths to feed, or responsibilities, there weren't any, not anymore.

Just him and the road.

He started walking – just walking. After the end, there wasn't much else to do. He stopped when he needed food, hunting; occasionally he'd get lucky and happen upon some house that hadn't been scavenged yet. There would be things like canned peaches and sleeves of cracker crumbs on days like that. He'd fill his bag with anything he could take with him, fill his water bottles again, maybe even stay to sleep the night - but after that he'd move on. No reason to stay anywhere.

And that's the way life was, days filled with walking down abandoned highways, past the remains of a life no one had anymore. And nights spent hidden in the burnt remains of someone's home.

Jeff had lost track of the number of times he'd turned his gun on himself, held the barrel against his temple finger on the trigger ready to pull. What was the point anymore? Why fight to stay alive when there was nothing worth living for? Why should he keep doing this day after day? He'd ask himself these same questions each time, holding the cool metal against his own head, and every time he'd pull the gun away, drop it into his lap. She kept him from that end.

On nights like that, Jeff wished he had a drink. Hell, even a cigarette, and he'd given those up years ago. Right after him and Mary had moved in together. They'd gotten a nice little apartment together, couldn't even afford furniture for the place; they found a table and chairs out in the alley and brought them up into the kitchen, and his parents gave them a mattress. And they didn't need anything more than that - they made so many memories on that mattress, on that table, in that apartment…. It was all gone now; it all burned.

* * *

  
"Jeff, come back to bed," Mary pleaded, batting her lashes at him, giving him the smile they both knew got to him every time.

He growled, low and teasing, tempted to climb right back into bed and show her how much he liked that smile, in the end he simply grinned and shook his head. "I'll be back in just a minute, can't stay in bed all day," he teased her, showing tremendous will power as he left the room, no matter how briefly. He was back a few minutes later two cups of coffee in his hands.

"See," he grinned, crawling back into bed. "Wasn't that long."

"Long enough."

"You think so?"

"I do." She smiled, hooking a leg over his, pulling him closer.

"I brought coffee."

"I saw that." She didn't reach for the cup though, simply content touching Jeff as they lay together. This was perfect, everything Jeff had ever hoped for in his life - he couldn't have imagined anything better. Not when Mary reached out stroking his temple with her fingertips. "Let's stay in bed all day."

"All day?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, doing his best not to grin playfully the way he wanted.

"All day."

"Don't you have something planned later today?"

"It doesn't matter; I want to spend the way in bed with you."

"I have plans later."

"Cancel them." She pushed her lower lip out, not quite enough to call it a pout, but it was dangerously close. Jeff shook his head, kissing her slowly, sucking her temptingly pink lip into his mouth, tongue trailing over it slowly.

He was rewarded with one of her sweet sighs when he pulled back, her expression still pleading him to stay. There were things he needed to do; it cost money to keep this sort of life around them, to keep Mary taken care of - but when she looked at him like that, like she would love him no matter where they lived, even if they couldn't afford this ratty little apartment, like she didn't care so long as she had him - he couldn't deny her anything.

"Yeah, alright, I can do that, darlin'." How could he say no? She didn't ask for jewelry, she didn't want a bigger home, the most expensive clothes, she just wanted him - how could he say no?

Smiling, Mary buried her face in his shoulder, pressing small kisses just above the collar of his t-shirt. "I was thinking…" She started peppering soft teasing kisses up the side of his neck as she spoke. "Maybe we could go away sometime, take that road trip we've been talking about for ages." Her voice flowed warm against his skin; he hummed in the back of his throat, hands tracing down along her side, fingers seeking out skin, bed-warmed skin beneath his fingers as he drew them higher pushing her top up.

"Down the coast." Her tongue slid warm over the shell of his ear. "Stop in a little bed and breakfast in the evening, before leaving the next morning." She was smiling; he could feel the easy curl of her lips against his skin and hear it in her voice. "What do you think?"

"Sounds nice." His voice was rough, the feeling of her warm body against his, her lips, tongue, mouth; there wasn't a man alive who would have stood a chance against her. "Someday, maybe."

"Next month," she prompted with another press of her lips against his neck.

He sighed, not quite the same content sound that he'd made before. "Not sure I can swing that for next month, darlin'."

"Things would be tight," she agreed. "But we'd manage, we always do."

"Why press our luck, though?"

"Don't you want to go?" she asked, pulling back, the light teasing tone from her voice breaking – not harsh, but close.

"Of course I do, don't look at me like that." He frowned, brows pulling together as he did his best not to let himself get frustrated – it was such a little thing. "I want to make this work, but I've got to work to do that; I can't keep calling in and taking vacations." He couldn't give her the world if he didn't have the job.

"Life is more than work." Her voice was quiet; not the harsh tone he'd expected to hear.

Jeff opened his mouth to reply, but she was pulling back; she slammed back, dragged across the room, pulled against the wall without warning or explanation. "Mary!" He reached out to her but no matter how far he reached he couldn't grab hold of her. He could see her face, contorted in fear as she was pulled away from him, lips no longer curled in that easy teasing smile, but contorted with fear, the silent shape of his name there instead, and he couldn't do anything, couldn't reach her, couldn't save her, couldn't stop it.

"Mary!" Jeff woke with a shout, shooting up arms outstretched for the wife that wasn't there. It took him a moment to realize it had been a dream; this nightmare was reality. It wasn't the first time he'd had this dream. It was one of the last conversations he'd had with his wife, disappointing her over and over again, unable to save her.

He reached for his bottle of water, pouring some into his hands, splashing his face and the back of his neck – he shivered at the cold clammy feeling of sweat beneath his clothes. A quick glance toward one of the boarded-up windows of his home for the night told him it was still night, probably a few more hours until the sun came up. He sighed; it was never easy to get back to sleep after a dream like that.

Jeff lay back throwing an arm across his face, just a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep. That was all he was asking for. Then he'd be gone, just a few more hours.

* * *

  
Down the coastline. Jeff didn't really have a particular path set out for his days of walking. He just walked. He woke up each morning, refilled his water bottles when he could, took whatever food he had with him and then set out again. He walked all day, during the hottest parts of the day, and well into the night. It was easier that way.

The longer he walked, the more tired he was at the end of the day, and the easier it was to fall asleep and not worry about what dreams he may or may not have once he was unconscious.

_"Let's take that trip, the one down the coast, that one we've always been talking about."_

And so he walked, each day. Step after step, each day fading into the one previous. Occasionally he'd hunt, though most often he scavenged abandoned homes for food. He'd gotten better at hunting over the last several months. He'd had to.

The first time he'd gone out, tried to hunt - he'd found a herd of deer, grazing in a meadow - how animals had survived the end of the world Jeff wasn't really sure, but at the moment he didn't particularly care about anything other than the twisting pain of hunger in his stomach. He had been sure the deer would hear the noise his stomach made, protesting after days without food, but they remained unawares, serenely chewing their grass without a care in the world.

He'd found a shotgun not long after he'd ran into that first group of survivors; he'd decided it'd probably be best to have some sort of protection, seeing as people were a bit jumpy these days. He raised the gun, butt pressed against his shoulder - he'd never really shot a gun before; he'd not much need to before. He'd been too busy working, and Mary had never cared for guns. But now, now he needed to eat - and his stomach wasn't going to let him forget that little fact any time soon. He raised the gun. Leveling the barrel and closing one eye as he lined up his target. He just needed to get one.

The shot rang out over the meadow, deafening to Jeff and startling not only the herd of deer but any and all other animal life that had been in the nearby area.

Of course he'd missed.

He swore, kicking at a tree stump - which had been a particularly stupid idea, as he found out just a moment later. As pain shot up from his toe, Jeff threw himself to the ground, leaning back against the same stump that had just broken his toe, most likely. He wasn't cut out for this sort of life.

Construction work didn't really teach you much about hunting, or survival after the end of the world. He was completely unprepared. He'd heard there were some, some who knew - or at least claimed they'd known. Jeff thought it was more likely that they were some sort of obsessive crazies who'd thought the sky was going to fall or aliens were going to invade and so they'd made their own preparations for the end. They had just gotten lucky.

The end wasn't as glamorous as aliens, or the sky falling. Jeff thought he might have preferred that end. No, this end was silent; it came in the night and caught everyone off guard. And it had been fast, sweeping through their lives in only a matter of days and leaving nothing intact. He was lucky to be alive – lucky. As if living like this ... living in this world could ever have been considered lucky.

Today, though, Jeff was hunting again. His supplies were running a bit low; sometimes he got lucky in the homes he stayed in but the last few had been cleaned out long before he'd arrived - probably by other travelers like himself. And so it was time to resort to hunting again.

He was better now than he had been; he kept both eyes open now. It was all a matter of finding an animal now - which seemed to get harder and harder the further south he went.

He didn't like leaving the road - it was the one constant thing in his life now and he didn't like venturing into the unknown that lay just to the side of the road, even to hunt. But it was necessary, and he never strayed far from the abandoned highways he traveled.

Jeff pushed into the brush, long overgrown after so much neglect - he'd never appreciated the crews who cleaned up their highways until he'd started walking them. Their neglect was becoming more and more apparent as time passed. He pushed on though, until the highway disappeared from view if he were to have turned around to catch a glimpse of it again - but he continued forward only stilling when he heard the sound of water nearby. A good sign.

And then he waited - he found a good spot, downwind from the small stream and waited. He hoped for some large animal, something that would last him for more than a day or two - but he had learned not to be picky. Leaning his head against a tree, Jeff sat - gun at the ready - and waited.

He didn't have to wait long; soon a raccoon made its way out of the brush and toward the little stream. Not quite what Jeff had in mind, but it would do for tonight and tomorrow, and that was the important part. He licked his lips, lining up the gun, both eyes open as he took aim this time.

The shot rang out.

* * *

  
He'd started up in Maine, that was where .... where he'd lived before the end. In a small little house just outside of the woods, a little way from town - it had likely been the only thing that saved him, though it hadn't been enough for Mary. And he'd just started walking. Down the coastline, keeping as close to the ocean as he could while staying on major highways - he figured that'd be safest. and he'd have a better chance of running into people when he needed them, and places to stay, if only for a little while.

Of course, it made for pretty lonely days - not that there were days that weren't lonely; it was hard not to be lonely when there was no one around. He thought about finding a dog - if such a thing were even possible - but in the end he decided it was a bad idea. He couldn't afford to get attached to anything, couldn't afford the extra mouth to feed, and adding anyone– even a dog – would slow him down.

He made good time most days; there wasn't much else do to than walk. Up with the sun and he didn't stop until it was dark again. Jeff wasn't sure what he was going to do when he actually made it all the way down the coast – if he actually made it all the way down the coast. But it was his one goal in life; he might have given up and died a long time ago if not for the driving need to make it down the coast.

Jeff walked slowly, the afternoon sun high in the sky as he went. He was low on bullets, even lower on food – water, too. The food and ammo weren't too worrisome; he could survive a while longer without either, but water, shielding his eyes he looked up at the sun once more. He wouldn't make it longer than another day or two.

The highway was deserted; it had been a long time since he'd ended up on a stretch of road like this, completely devoid of towns, mile markers, even lone houses, those pushed out from the cities and town to get a little peace. It was just miles and miles of empty road as far as he could see. The sun shown down over head, slowly baking Jeff as he walked, he could feel it hot against the back of his neck. Those first few weeks had been made all the more miserable by the sunburns Jeff got, though now, after months, his skin had darkened, used to the constant exposure, and he no longer had to worry about the burns.

He wasn't sure how far he walked that day; not as far or as long as he normally did, but he'd been trying to conserve the little bit of water he had left, as well as keeping an eye out for more as he went. It didn't make for a very productive day on the whole, and so when Jeff found a small clearing in the underbrush as dusk was falling he finished off the last bit of water he had left.

He didn't think about what that meant, didn't think about what would happen if he didn't find water tomorrow. It might be nice – he'd tried, after all, he hadn't just lain down and died like he wanted to so many times - he'd gone on, hadn't put the shotgun into his mouth, hadn't let anyone else kill him, either - it couldn't be helped now. There just wasn't anything for him out here in the middle of nowhere. It would be nice to die, to sleep and not wake.

Maybe Mary would be there.

* * *

  
"Give that to me." Zach lazily extended a hand, reaching out for the joint Jeff still pinched between two fingers, though he'd mostly forgotten it as he kissed Mary. She tasted sweet and warm all at the same time, her lips soft and yielding against his, her mouth a mix of smoke, wine, and that sweet undertone that was all Mary - the one that drove Jeff crazy with lust and need.

"Fuck off," he mumbled; he hadn't even bothered pulling back from Mary's lips enough to get the words out. Didn't want to.

"Careful there, Zach," Jeremy chuckled, a low, rough sound, coming from where he lounged almost on the floor, shoulder bumping up against Zach's, with Ever stretched between the two of them, completely blissed out, her head in Jeremy's lap, legs draped over Zach. "Should know better than to get between Morgan and his girl."

Jeff growled, but parted from Mary long enough to pass off the joint before he turned back to her just as quickly, ignoring whatever teasing comments were coming from the peanut gallery behind them.

"Remember, they're your friends," Mary told him with a teasing smile as she stroked his cheek.

"That you insisted on inviting over."

"Because you wanted to see us," Jeremy added with a smug grin. "I know you think you've got a hard-on for your girl, but you don't fool me, Morgan," he teased. "I know it's me you're hard for." He puckered his lips at Jeff and laughed, stealing the joint from Zach, and taking a long, drawn-out hit.

"Hey, save some for the rest of us!" Ever pouted, stretching like a cat between Jeremy and Zach as she reached for the joint, her eyes nearly closed, an easy smile playing across her lips. "Lay off, Jeff, will you? Besides, everyone knows it's me you want." She quirked up the corner of her mouth as she blew out a puff of smoke.

Mary reached over and took the joint from between Ever's fingers, easy as anything. "Hey, what about me?" Zach pouted.

Jeremy shrugged. "Missed your chance, man."

She brought it to her lips and breathed in slowly; Jeff always loved watching her like this, the look of steady concentration – especially after they'd passed the joint around several times – like it took all the thought she could muster to make sure she did it right, and then she held her breath. Jeff knew from experience that she was counting to fourteen before she exhaled; it's just the way she did it. And Jeff loved her for it.

He took the joint from her and snubbed it out, kissing her again. Her mouth still tasted of sticky-sweet bitter smoke as he thrust his tongue forward, licking into her.

"Fuck, I can't watch this." Zach was still pouting, no doubt, after he missed out on the last of the joint, and he pushed Ever's legs off his lap, despite her protests, and stood up. "I need a beer."

"Bring me one, too," Jeremy called after him as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Jeff was far too concerned with the warm body pressed against his to think about beer, or even pay attention to the others who were right beside them. Mary was his entire world, his light and life. He could feel her lips curling into one of her sweet smiles against his own as he kissed her. He wasn't a young man, hadn't been for years and yet just having Mary pressed up close against him had Jeff acting like some sort of horny teenager all over again - and he could never seem to find the will to mind.

A low groan slipped from his lips, only for Mary to swallow it greedily while she kissed him as he curved an arm around Mary's back. pulling her against his chest, the warm soft crush of her breasts between them nearly as intoxicating as the taste of her mouth. He ached for her, and if it hadn't been for Zach's interruption, Jeff was fairly certain he would have started ridding her of clothing in short order.

That is if Zach hadn't gone and interrupted.

"Dammit, Zach, get your own damn beer," Jeff growled, turning from Mary to see his friend sulking.

"I did, asshole, not my fault it's all gone."

Jeff turned back to Mary, intent on picking up where he'd left off, but she stopped him, pressing her finger against his lips and smiling - that smile meant she was going to ask him for something. It was the one that told him he wouldn't be able to say no, no matter how much he may have wanted to.

Sighing, he waited.

"Could you run down to the store and get some more beer?" she asked him sweetly, like the idea had been her own - like she wasn't asking just to keep Zach from pouting more than he already was.

He sighed, glaring over his shoulder at Zach, though Mary pulled him back so he was focused completely on her, pursing her lips slightly, pulling her eyebrows together and giving him that look, that sweet, innocent, pleading look that Jeff could never say no to.

Jeff growled; he knew what she was doing, he fucking knew it and he couldn't keep from crumbling just like he did every other time she did this - he would do anything for her, after all.

"Fine," he said, kissing her to stop her from looking at him like that, or he really wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. "I'll do it." He pressed one more quick kiss to her smiling face before he stood up, he glared at Zach again, and kicked his knee. "You fucking owe me, asshole."

"Bring back something to eat, too," Ever chimed in, not even bothering to open her eyes, so focused she was on the feeling of Jeremy's fingers slipping through her hair.

Jeff grumbled and stuffed his wallet into his pocket and stomped out the door.

The door slammed behind him, and a moment later he heard it open again, followed by the sound of feet on the stairs behind him. He turned in time to catch Mary as she threw herself at him, kissing him with all the passion she could muster - "I love you."

She smiled, kissing him once more before she bounded back up the stairs.

* * *

  
The sun was already up and shining through the trees right into his face when Jeff woke. His heart ached, the way it always did when he dreamt of Mary.

He stretched and yawned with the new day, his throat dry; he sighed. It wouldn't be long; another day, maybe less if the heat kept up, and he'd be joining Mary – he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips at that thought. No more waking up in rundown shacks, in piles of leaves, no more hunting, no more walking … there'd only be Mary.

Jeff had never believed in God, in Heaven or Hell, in any sort of afterlife. They had this one life and that was it, when you were gone you were gone – but after … well after he'd lost Mary, he couldn't bear thinking that she was just gone; what sort of world would this be if someone like Mary could just disappear, if she could just cease to be? He didn't know if that meant he believed in God or any of that bullshit religion tried to teach him, but he had to believe Mary was out there somewhere, watching over him every day, waiting for him.

If he was being honest with himself, though, he sometimes thought it might have been easier just to blink out of existence than to go on with this shell of a life he had now.

But first, he had another day; as much as he may have wanted to, he couldn't just lie there and die … he had to keep going, no matter how pointless it was going to be. There wasn't a town; there wouldn't be a town, at least not one he could reach in time. He knew that already, and yet he couldn't just lay there waiting for it, even after everything it wasn't in him to simply give up.

And so Jeff pulled himself up, brushing leaves off himself before he pushed through the bush back to the highway to start the long day's walk. He thought about leaving his pack behind, along with his gun and empty water bottles - why carry the extra weight? In the end he decided it would be too much like just giving up if he did that; he had to at least try, no matter how pointless; the weight of the pack against his back was one of the few constants in his life now, he couldn't just abandon it on the side of the road, not after it had come with him so far.

"Almost time, Mary." The sound of his voice was rough, harder than he remembered it – but it had been so long since he'd actually spoke, he wasn't entirely sure if that was how it had always sounded. Surely not, though; he couldn't imagine Mary putting up with a voice like that.

"Going to see my girl again soon." The thought lifted him up as he walked, "I've missed you so much, baby." Jeff idly wondered if this was what going crazy was like … talking to the air as he slowly walked down an endless stretch of sun baked highway. Though if he could wonder if he was going crazy, that must mean he was still at least mostly sane – wasn't that how that worked?

The day stretched on, long and hot, the sun rising in the sky until it was beaming down directly overhead. Jeff felt each and every step; his body cried out for water the further he went. It seemed a bit silly that not even one day after running out of water his body would be practically screaming for it already, though he remembered what it had been like working summers, the way his mouth seemed parched after even an hour without a drink.

It was a new experience, to see death coming. Every hour that passed, every step he took was just one more step closer to the end; it was almost surreal to see it coming like this, to know that he was walking towards his own end.

He decided that yes, he did prefer this sort of end; he liked that he could see it coming – that it wasn't going to take him by surprise and it wasn't going to be some fucking inexplicable fire either. His body just wasn't cut out for this sort of life; he'd known that before he started, but what else had there been for him? Not Mary, not his job, not his friends – and he'd checked. Dragged Mary from their burning house, they hadn't even stopped for coats, just ran out the door still trying to lace up their shoes.

He'd pushed her, made her run because it was the only way they were going to survive; he'd known that deep in his bones that they had to keep moving. As long as the world was burning they couldn't stop. It wouldn't be safe, the fires would catch up, or some idiot would catch them off guard and Jeff could not let that happen. And so they ran, through the dense mesh of trees that had surrounded their home, down the long dirt road and into town. It was in ruins before they'd gotten close - he'd wanted to keep going, to forget about anyone they may have known there. No one could have survived what happened there.

But Mary had insisted.

He could never deny her. Even at the end of the world.

They'd pushed on, going right into the middle of their ruined hometown, fires still burning here and there. He tried to keep Mary from seeing the bodies that were lying in the street, burnt beyond recognition, but there were too many – anyone they'd ever known  
people they saw every day, people they'd worked with. No one had been prepared for this. They made it to Jeremy's apartment first – or what had been Jeremy's apartment. There was nothing left; just smoke and rubble, fires and bricks – and bodies. So many bodies - Jeff couldn't look, couldn't force himself to try and look through that sea of bodies for his best friend, couldn't make himself do it.

Mary had pressed her face against his chest and tried to hold back tears that had been waiting to spill out since before they'd left the house. He'd held her close, pressed against his chest for as long as he felt they could stand there before they had to move again.

"Come on, baby." He was trying to focus on his wife and nothing else. "We have to keep moving."

"Ever and Zach," she'd said quietly.

"Yeah. Come on."

He'd felt pretty sure they would be greeted with much the same scene when they reached the next apartment, and yet he couldn't leave without checking; Mary would never have forgiven him – and so they'd gone, looking for their friends, hoping against hope that they'd be safe, that they'd be waiting for them. Each time they were hit again with the smell of burning; Jeff turned Mary away from it. Held her tight to him, and all he could think was _Thank you, Lord_. He'd never prayed a day in his life, but at that moment he'd prayed, thanked whatever was out there that Mary was still with him.

He should have known better.

It was easier now. Knowing death was coming for him; he'd been running for months and now finally it would catch up with him, and he was grateful for it. He was ready to die, to be done with this.

Night was falling and the sun slipping down past the line of trees. Jeff was surprised that he'd made it through the entire day; he should have known it would take longer than just a day, though he was sure the next day he would not be so lucky. He let himself stop earlier than he would have normally and found a little spot just off the road, and lying down in the grass.

One more sleep, it seemed, one more night, one more morning, just a few more miles before he would be going home.

* * *

  
He woke early the next morning. He swallowed, trying to ease the dry ache in his throat as he stretched and pulled himself up. He was tempted to go back to sleep, but in the end he decided it would just be a pointless exercise and so he picked up his pack again and made his way back to the road.

After an hour or two of walking, Jeff felt himself faltering. The sun was rising quickly, already warm on the back of his neck in the early morning hours; he wouldn't make it through the heat of the day this time. Instead of dread, he felt only relief; he pushed on.

It was just when Jeff was thinking about lying down right there in the middle of the road and not getting up again that he saw something on the horizon. He squinted against the sunlight and cursed his eyes - leave it up to them to start going when there was no such thing as an optometrist anymore.

It couldn't be.

He kept walking, still squinting, cupping his hand over his eyes to cut out the glare. It was a mirage, brought on by the heat, by the lack of water – he was seeing things. He told himself these things over and over again, and yet he didn't stop walking, just kept putting one foot down in front of the other growing closer and closer to whatever it was that he was seeing.

Buildings.

A town.

He stopped in the middle of the road when what he was seeing finally made sense to his water-deprived mind. A town, when he'd been sure there wouldn't be another for miles. A town with water, most likely. A town with other survivors – possibly.

Fuck.

This was not supposed to be happening; he was supposed to walk until he couldn't anymore, until he passed out, until his eyes closed and until he'd breathed his last, drawn-out breath. He wasn't supposed to come across some Godforsaken down here in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't fucking fair – he deserved to die, deserved to be free of this, and yet just when the end was within his grasp here was his salvation.

He wouldn't go around it, the way he did with other towns in the past. He couldn't afford to go around, not when there might be water there, not when it meant he'd live. He knew Mary wouldn't want him to give up - no matter how much he wanted to.

"Goddammit, Mary, this wasn't supposed to happen." His lips formed the words, though the sounds that came out didn't quite match and let his head fall back to face the sun – eyes turned skywards as if Mary was really up there somewhere looking down on him. "It's supposed to be over." He dropped to his knees staring at the town only a few miles away now.

"You left, you left me and I could finally come find you." His heart wrenched as he dropped his face into his hands. "This was not supposed to happen."

And for the first time since he'd started walking he let himself cry, dry heaving sobs there in the middle of the road. All the months of loneliness, poor nights' sleep, days of rain, going hungry for days all came pouring out at the injustice of it all. Hadn't he been through enough, hadn't he done enough, shouldn't he be able to die in peace if he wanted, and not haunted by the ghost of his dead wife? It was all he wanted in the world – to die, to stop living in this Hell, and even that was being denied to him.

* * *

  
"You have to keep going."

"Of course we are, baby, we can't stop yet," Jeff told Mary. He held her hand tight as they raced through the woods - Jeff had decided it would be best to steer clear of the roads for a while. They'd been on the run for two days now; they hadn't found anyone else, and so they kept moving, stopping only to sleep and when they needed food or water.

On the second day they'd stopped in a home that looked like it had escaped most of the damage that first night had wrought They'd found water and food. Jeff had gone through every room in the house looking for anything they could use. He'd found two backpacks and hiking shoes for Mary; he was still making do with his work boots. He'd packed up all the food and water they could carry before he'd insisted they leave, despite Mary's protests. It wasn't safe to stay the fires would catch up, they had to keep moving.

There had been a radio - they flipped through the stations, getting only static on all the local stations, and it wasn't until Jeff had started tuning the radio by hand that he'd managed to get a signal. A message on repeat was all there had been, something Jeff had never thought he'd hear in all his life and something that scared him more than anything they had experienced up to that point.

_... Unexplained fires across the world, still no understanding what started them. Reports from as far away as Australia with the same information. Initial reports have the death toll in the hundreds of millions..._

Mary had gasped.

_... still burning and spreading despite all efforts to stop them. All major cities have been completely wiped out all across the world. With fires spreading from largely populated areas out to smaller-_

Jeff turned the radio off, his lips pressed in a tight line as he swung one of the packs on to his back and handed the other to Mary. "Time to go."

And they'd left, running again, staying away from populated areas.

"You have to keep going," Mary said again.

"I am, baby, I'm not stopping," he assured her.

"No, you have to keep going without me."

Jeff stopped and wheeled around to face her. "What?"

"I can't..." She was sucking in deep lungfulls of air, exhausted from all their running. "I can't keep up. You have to keep going; I'll just slow you down."

"I'm not leaving you." Jeff's voice was harsh; he could hardly believe what she was suggesting.

"You have to."

"No. Fuck," he swore. "Mary, I'm not leaving you, I don't care if you slow me down."

"You have to live. I can't ... You can't die because of me."

"We're not going to die. I'm not going to let that happen."

"You're not going to die."

"You aren't either."

"Please."

"No."

That had been the last of that; Jeff was not going to budge and Mary could be just as stubborn as he was. He kept a tight hold on her after that and slowed his pace some.

* * *

  
_You have to live_

As always, it was Mary's voice that broke through, that pulled Jeff to his feet once more when all he wanted to do was die. And he put one foot in front of the other and started walking again, despite the way his knees ached and his throat protested. He started off toward the town.

It was only half an hour or so when he reached the outskirts of the town. He could see tents and smoke from fires further down the road toward the center of town. The scent of smoke brought back images he'd rather not see, and yet he kept going. Slowly, cautiously. Just because he was dying was no reason to be careless.

There was no sign of anyone, though, the further he got into town. There were signs of life, though, signs that people lived here; they just weren't here now, it seemed. Jeff wondered if they'd left, if this had just been a temporary stop for a large group – though Jeff doubted it. A group of survivors needed shelter needed a way to protect itself, and a town was the perfect place for that.

The burnt remains of homes and businesses provided shelter and protection from other survivors and anything else that might come their way. They wouldn't leave a place like this without good reason. And so Jeff remained on edge; the people who lived here were likely doing the same thing preparing to either attack or wait for him to - Jeff hoped it was the former.

Jeff didn't have to wait too much longer.

When he neared the center of the town he was suddenly surrounded, he didn't expect anything less. Of course the 9 armed men standing around him with guns leveled at him seemed a bit excessive – he was just one man with one shotgun after all. He'd be lucky to even get his gun off his back before one of them fired, let alone make a shot – and that wasn't even considering just how dehydrated he was at the moment.

"What do you want?" A tall man wearing glasses strode up between the men who still formed a ring around him; he wasn't holding a gun, so far as Jeff could see – and he wondered if that was a good sign or not.

"Water," Jeff told him plainly.

"That all?"

"A hot bath and some French fries might be nice too." He wasn't in the mood for an interrogation.

The man tilted his head and smirked, though it didn't hold the same teasing humor that Jeff was used to from the expression; it was more methodical and scheming to be anywhere close to amused. Jeff might have thought, if he'd met this man under other circumstances, that this man was alright enough. But the way he was so put together even now, clothes smooth, glasses unbroken, face clean – Jeff knew there was something more to him than what he was telling and he had a feeling he'd find out soon enough.

"Alec," he called; a young man appeared from one of the buildings. He was dressed well, despite their obviously poor living conditions, wearing a button-down shirt and his hair combed over neatly. The young man came quickly and seemed to wait for instructions rather than ask questions.

"Bring this man some water," the man told him before the boy disappeared again. Jeff supposed he was dealing with the leader of this little group – he'd seen the dynamic before, but those were the sorts of places he tended to avoid when he could. It never ended well, a man on a power trip at the end of the world. But it seemed that it couldn't be avoided today.

The ring of men around them didn't lower their guns and Jeff didn't even bother trying to look worried about the fact. He couldn't imagine that they were going to give him water and then shoot him – though he'd been wrong before.

The young man – a boy, really – returned a few moments later, holding a plastic bottle filled with water. Jeff could see the clear wet liquid slosh around inside the bottle and he licked his lips without even thinking about it, so focused was he on the one thing that would keep him alive even a little bit longer – it was easy knowing you were going to go without water when there wasn't any, but now it was there right in front of him barely out of reach and his body screamed for it.

Their leader took the bottle and stroked the boy's hair before he sent him back to his hiding place with a jerk of his head.

"I'm Michael." Perfect; Jeff was dying and this man wanted to exchange pleasantries.

"Jeff." It may have been an exercise in ego masturbation but Jeff still had some manners.

"Jeff." He turned the name over on his tongue, considering him before he tossed him the bottle. Jeff caught it easily; despite how sluggish his body felt he seemed to be capable of that much. Without preamble he twisted off the lid and brought the bottle to his lips, drinking deeply for a moment before he pulled it away. It wouldn't do him any good if he drank the water too fast, and so he waited a moment before bringing the bottle to his lips and drinking again; this time it was more than just a flash of wet against his tongue before it slid down his throat. He could taste the dirt and the heat of the water, but despite all that it was the best thing he'd ever had in his entire life, he was sure of that.

Michael continued to smirk as he drank the water he'd been given, and Jeff wondered if they'd drugged it – though that seemed a little redundant at this point so he didn't let himself worry about it too much.

It wasn't until he'd finished draining the bottle that Michael stepped forward.

"It's been such a long time since we've seen anyone new." he started. "We started to wonder if there was anyone else left."

"I've come across several groups like yours here," Jeff commented; apart from the men with guns, Alec and Michael, Jeff was sure there were others here, they were just in hiding as Alec had been. "I'm sure I'll come across more."

Michael looked surprised that Jeff was going to be leaving.

"It's quite dangerous to be traveling on your own."

"I've managed pretty well on my own."

"I can see that."

The water incident aside, Jeff felt like he'd adjusted as well as could be expected to life on the road, no matter what this Michael thought. For the first time Jeff wondered what he looked like; he must have been a sight to see. He hadn't shaved since before he left home, hadn't picked up new clothes in ages; it was getting harder to find them when he raided abandoned homes, and he wasn't even going to think the last time he'd taken a proper shower.

"Was caught a little off guard as to the water situation in these parts, but I've made it down from Maine, so I think I'm doing alright." Jeff shrugged, glancing at the ring of men that still surrounded them. "Think you can get these boys to point those guns somewhere else?"

Michael nodded, more to the men around Jeff than to Jeff himself, and the men lowered their guns, though only enough to say they weren't exactly pointing at Jeff – they still didn't look very friendly. Jeff rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything; the last thing he wanted to do now that he had a little water in his system was to go getting himself shot. That was one way he didn't want to die.

"Are you hungry, Jeff?" Michael asked, like they were old buddies, like he didn't have men with guns surrounding him.

Jeff just stared for a moment before shrugging. "Been a few days since I've had anything to eat, so I wouldn't say no, if you're offering," he told the other man honestly.

Michael nodded. "Well, of course; this may be the end of the world but we're by no means barbarians." He did a poor impression of the polite host.

Jeff still wasn't sure what to make of this new situation in which he found himself; this Michael had something to hide, that much was obvious, but what exactly that was Jeff hadn't figured out just yet. In any case, for the moment, it seemed he didn't really have anything to bargain with, so he'd just have to wait and see what it was that Michael really wanted.

"This way." Michael nodded his head for Jeff to follow, before he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the buildings where Alec had come from earlier. Jeff cast a suspicious glance at the group of men still surrounding him before he started after Michael; it would be just his luck to end up getting shot in the back, after everything.

They stepped inside the rundown remains of a store front; Jeff couldn't find any identifying signs to indicate what the store had been in a previous life, but it now looked like a mess-hall of sorts. It seemed this was where everyone had been hiding while he'd come into town. It made sense; centralized building, probably the most intact of all the buildings in town he'd seen up to this point.

He did a quick headcount of the people he could see. There was, of course, his troupe of guards; nine men plus Michael. Then there was Alec, standing off to the side like he was trying to go unnoticed; finally, a group of women. Jeff tried his best to count without really looking - he'd learned from experience that groups didn't really appreciate it when you started counting off their women. Jeff wondered what it was about the end of the world that had people reverting back to their prehistoric roots. There looked to be about seven or eight women, and most surprising of all there were three children - possibly more hidden out of sight. It had been the first time Jeff had seen any children since that first night, and he had to remind himself not to stare.

"How long have you all been here?" he asked. Might as well get some information while he was being herded around.

"Since right after it happened; we got the fires out as quickly as we could and then started rebuilding almost immediately."

"So you all are from this area originally?" he asked, surprised to see that so many from one area had survived.

"Not all, but most. We've taken in a few lone travelers, like yourself." Michael turned to glance at Jeff over his shoulder.

"Ah." Jeff decided it was best not to push that he wasn't going to be staying for the moment. He still needed food and water before he left – some bullets would be good, too, if they had any to spare.

He followed behind Michael through a maze of overturned boxes set up as counter tops and tables. It looked like they'd divided up the room to serve several different purposes; something that might have been a school for the children – again, he tried not to look; few sleeping areas; and then, further in the back, was the area Jeff had seen first – boxes, parts of tables, laid in a long line to make a table with broken chairs, anything that might provide a suitable place to sit pulled up alongside. It seemed this was where they took their meals.

"Alec," Michael called again, and the boy came rushing up; he watched the boy's face as he approached, and he wondered if he was somehow related to Michael, or if this little group of survivors was set up like some sort of dictatorship, and if that were the case, was Michael really the leader or just some figurehead to keep the real leader out of sight? The way everyone seemed to follow Michael's orders without any hesitation, though, seemed to suggest that he was the only leader around here.

"Fix a little something for our new friend." Alec didn't even look at Jeff before he had disappeared again.

He wasn't getting a good feeling about the sort of group dynamics that were present here, but it appeared for the moment he was stuck. He followed Michael to one of their makeshift tables and sat himself down onto an overturned milk crate.

"How many people do you have here?"

"25 at last count." Michael seemed proud of the number. "Have you run into any other groups of survivors in your travels?"

"A few." He didn't add that he normally went around towns whenever it was possible. "I think this might be the largest I've seen, though." The groups Jeff normally encountered numbered ten or fifteen at the most. He couldn't imagine trying to keep a group of people like this together and civil, though that might have provided at least some explanation for the role Michael had taken here.

Alec returned a few minutes later, this time carrying a tray with a hunk of bread, some raw vegetables, and another bottle of water. He set the tray down in front of Jeff without meeting his gaze.

"Thanks, kid." He didn't receive a response; Alec just ducked his head further and disappeared again.

"So you've been traveling since it happened?" Michael asked. It seemed that even this large group didn't have any better explanation for what had happened than the little bits and pieces Jeff had been able to gather over the last several months.

"Yeah, since that first night."

"And you've been on your own since the beginning?"

"Yeah." Jeff hesitated before he answered, but he didn't feel the need to tell Michael about Mary and how she'd died, especially seeing as he'd been thinking about that night too much over the last day or so.

"Interesting. I'm impressed that you've lasted this long on your own."

"Been taking it a day at a time." Jeff shrugged, already tearing into the bread without thought for how hungry he must have seemed to them; all he cared about was getting food in his belly, anything to ease that slow curling pain that had been gripping him for days, made all the more apparent once he'd gotten some water.

"And you plan on leaving here as well?" Michael asked, like he wanted Jeff to stay; Jeff had no intentions of that at all. "You haven't found anywhere you'd want to stay?"

"You've been real kind," Jeff started; he knew that much and he knew he'd most likely be paying for that before he would be allowed to leave. "But I'm heading down the coastline, guess I'll know exactly where I'm going when I get there." He shrugged, bringing the bottle of warm water to his lips and tipping it back - he didn't drink as quickly this time, still aching for more water, but the little bit he'd gotten earlier was enough to take that stabbing pain away.

"That's a shame; we can always use more hands around here."

"You seem to have quite a few already."

"Yes, we do," he agreed.

"I wouldn't be much help to you anyway," Jeff lied; this was probably one place where his previous set of skills would serve him well, but he couldn't stay here. "And I don't want to be a burden on anyone."

"No one is a burden here," Michael insisted. "We all serve our purposes."

"And what's your purpose?"

"I've taken on a leadership role," Michael told him, confirming Jeff's earlier suspicions. "I do a lot of the planning and take care of the details.. Some of us –" He grinned slowly, indicating the men who still stood around them holding guns, appearing a bit more relaxed now. "– have experience in labor as well as marksmanship. Some teach, others do the cooking and farming, and there are a few other things that get taken care of as well. Everyone has somewhere they fit."

Jeff nodded; the farming explained the fresh vegetables, and he'd apparently been right about the school area. He wondered about the other jobs Michael had mentioned but not elaborated on, but felt it was best he didn't know.

"It sounds like you all have a real nice system worked out here."

"It works for us."

"I think I'll still be on my way," Jeff repeated. "I wonder if I might get a bit of extra food and water from you all before I leave?" Still nothing to offer and it was apparent Michael wanted him to stay; Jeff hoped this initial hospitality would carry him through until he was ready to leave.

Michael pressed his lips together, considering what Jeff had asked. "Are you sure you won't stay? I'm sure we can figure something out for you."

"You all have been real kind, apart from the guns, but I'll need to be getting back on the road." It was a silly argument, really; Jeff knew that. He didn't know where he was going, didn't know what he was going to do when he ran out of coastline, and he couldn't explain the reason for the trip without mentioning Mary and he couldn't bring her up now.

"Do you have anything to trade?" Michael asked, finally.

Jeff shrugged. "Not really, all I've got are the clothes on my back and my pack, which is empty, and my gun." And if he was going to be leaving, he couldn't give up any of that.

"Well that does create quite the pickle, doesn't it?"

_Quite the pickle?_ Jeff tried not show his surprise at the phrase and he wondered again about the sort of man Michael really was. Obviously this front he was showing him now was at least partially an act; Jeff just wasn't sure how much was real and how much was the act.

"Look, if this is going to be a problem, I'll just leave, you all have already been kinder than I deserve. I don't want to cause you any trouble." Jeff was really more concerned with getting out of the town again than he was about where he'd find food and water once he was free of this place.

"I don't think that would be wise." Michael shook his head grimly.

"It's not the first time I've done my own hunting and I'm pretty good at finding water most of the time," Jeff assured him; he was starting to think his chances of actually making it out of town were not going to be very good.

"Oh, I'm sure you've had to be quite resourceful in that aspect," Michael agreed, "but the next water source is days away. You won't make it."

Jeff swore; if Michael wasn't lying about the distance then he was right. He wouldn't make it - and after facing death like that once already he wasn't exactly relishing the thought of doing it again, not when he obviously had another option, no matter how loathsome it was.

"Is there nothing I can give you to get the things I need?" he asked; Jeff was going to do his damnest to get out of this place if he could. He didn't want to be here under this man's rule.

Michael was quiet for a moment, as if considering if there was anything Jeff could possibly offer that would be worth the precious resources he was asking for. Jeff already knew nothing he had was going to be enough; he couldn't part with his gun or his pack, He supposed if Michael really wanted he could give him his clothes, but it looked like they had enough there.

There was still food left on his tray, but what he'd already eaten was sitting like a rock in his stomach now that it seemed he might not get the chance to leave. Eating more at the moment was not an appetizing thought. He' became more aware of the men still surrounding them; he didn't look at any of them, but he had a feeling they all have their eyes on him - he shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have come to this Godforsaken town, should have just let himself die.

"I think I might have come up with something." Michael interrupted his thoughts a few moments later, and Jeff looked up from the place he'd been starting.

"Yeah?" Jeff wasn't exactly hopeful, but there was the possibility that it wouldn't be too terrible.

"Misha," Michael called, and instead of the young boy Jeff had seen twice before, an older man came. He'd been in another room; Jeff supposed there were even more people back there. This man was younger than him, maybe pushing into his mid thirties, his hair dark and messy and he could use a shave. What caught Jeff most about him were his eyes; he avoided eye contact in the same way Alec had, but the color Jeff saw there was brilliant.

"This is Misha." Michael introduced the other man to Jeff, and he looked up for just a moment, only long enough for Jeff to wonder if he'd actually identified the color of his eyes correctly at first glance. "Misha, this is Jeff." Misha stayed silent and nodded slowly, like he was waiting for his next order.

"This is the solution to our little pickle," Michael said proudly; Jeff couldn't help the look of confusion on his face, and he didn't fail to notice the tense set of Misha's shoulders at Michael's pronouncement.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Jeff said slowly, seeking clarification.

"You'll take Misha with you when you leave town, and we will give you both as much food and water as we can fit into two packs."

"Wait ... what?" He would take Misha? That didn't even make sense. "What do you mean, I'll take him? I travel alone; I can't have anyone else with me slowing me down."

Michael clicked his tongue and sighed. "Then I'm sorry, but we can't give you what you need."

Jeff just stared wide eyed from Michael to Misha and back again. This didn't even make sense. "Why? Why would you send him with me? Don't you need hands here? You said that."

"Yes, I did; unfortunately, the skills Misha has to offer are no longer in demand the way they were when he first arrived." Jeff caught Misha glance toward the place where Alec was trying to stay invisible.

"And what sort of skills does Misha have to offer?" he asked slowly, putting the pieces together in his mind but still not making sense of the complete picture.

Michael smirked this time, his lips twisting cruelly with the motion. "Before that night Misha was a teacher, isn't that right?" He reached out and stroked his hand down Misha's arm slowly, and the pieces were clicking into place more quickly now. "He was a yoga instructor." Another piece. "You can imagine when we found him, there wasn't much left - Yoga doesn't exactly teach you the sort of things you need to know to survive the end of the world." He was still smirking at Misha as he spoke.

"He couldn't farm, and he couldn't shoot, and we learned early on to keep him out of the kitchen." He chuckled as he spoke, the sound wrapping itself around the rock in Jeff's stomach the longer it went on. "But it turns out Misha did have something he could offer to us here." Michael's hand was on Misha's hip now, and Jeff could see where this was going, could see it and couldn't stop it no matter how much he wanted to. "And we made quite good use of those skills, didn't we, boys?" There were dark rolls of laughter from behind him that joined in with Michael's.

"Though now," Michael dropped his hand and turned from Misha; his gaze went easily to the spot where Alec was, like he didn't even have to search him out, he just knew he would be there. "Now it seems we no longer require his skills, and so he has become a bit of a burden to us." Misha stood still and quiet throughout the entire speech, and Jeff wondered just how broken the man was.

"So you'll take him off our hands for us and we'll give you the supplies you need." Michael smiled easily as he returned his eyes to Jeff.

Jeff felt ill. He wanted to reach across the table between them and slam his fist into Michael's smug face, to feel the satisfying snap of those glasses he wore and shatter the bone beneath. He wanted to help Misha; he really did - he just didn't want to have to take care of him afterwards. And there was Alec, too, it seemed – possibly the women as well. He couldn't help all of them, especially not with those men all at his back; he wouldn't even make it across the table before he'd feel the first bullet slide between his shoulder blades.

Clenching his fists beneath the table in an attempt to reign in the rage he felt flowing through him, Jeff took a slow and steady breath. He couldn't afford to have someone tagging along with him, didn't want the company either, or the responsibility.... but, God help him, he couldn't leave him here either.

"I want a box of shells, too," he said finally with a sigh of resignation.

Michael nodded and grinned like he'd won. And he had.

* * *

  
Their packs were filled with food and water, and Jeff had a box of shells tucked into his bag as well. He'd managed to get himself a shower and a shave as well, and feeling mostly human for the first time in months Jeff pulled up the heavy pack and swung it over his shoulder, grunting under the weight of it. He didn't stop to bid farewell to any one in that Godforsaken town, didn't even turn to see if Misha had gotten his pack alright or was following him before he started out of town continuing on his never-ending journey.

He still couldn't believe what had happened back there, the sorts of things people were reduced to at a time like this. People should be banding together and taking care of each other, not taking advantage of people the way Michael and those around him most obviously were - Jeff decided he was lucky to have gotten out of there at all, let alone with enough food and water to last him more than a week, if he rationed it correctly. Of course he'd also gotten a companion out of the deal.

He could hear the slow scuffle of shoes on the pavement behind him; Misha was obviously following him - not that he blamed him. He would have wanted to get out of that place too if he'd been forced to do the sorts of things Misha had been. He felt pity for the man, but that didn't mean he wanted him tagging along. He was doing this alone; the only person who would have been welcome on this trip was Mary, and she most certainly wasn't going to be joining them anytime soon. Jeff would have just as soon been by himself.

Since he'd managed to get both food and water into his body as well as a few hours of sleep, Jeff felt revitalized and ready to go for the rest of the day, and so he'd picked up his usual quick pace as soon as they'd put the town behind them. He didn't bother talking to Misha, wasn't even sure what he would have said if he'd decided he did want to have a conversation. The words he'd exchanged with Michael had been the most he'd talked to anyone in months. When he was on his own there was no need, and when he did have to stop for supplies he kept things simple and to the point. He wasn't going to go making small talk now just so this other man would feel more comfortable around him.

When he'd met Mary he'd been the same way; gruff, a man of few words. It was just his way. He did his work and at the end of the day all he wanted was a nice cold beer and possibly a warm body to share his bed. But that didn't usually include a conversation.

That was until he'd met Mary.

She turned him into a fool.

He smiled and laughed more easily with her than he ever had in his entire life; they talked together into the wee small hours of the morning, and her company was enough for him at the end of the day. Being next to her was like being home; he'd known that from the first day he'd met her. Zach and Ever had brought her over one night, decided to do a little matchmaking, and though Jeff had never admitted it to either of them, they'd done a fucking fantastic job - he would have never heard the end of it if he'd admitted that to them, though. He couldn't have picked anyone better than Mary in all his life.

And slowly but surely she'd brought him out of himself, taught him how to feel comfortable in his own skin, and loved him more than he rightly deserved.

It had taken someone like Mary to draw him out before, and he highly doubted this man could do the same thing.

And so they walked.

In silence, the miles stretched out ahead of them.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Jeff could feel the weight of the last few days bearing down on him, though it didn't slow him down too much; he kept his pace up. In fact, he would have gone that same unforgiving pace the rest of the day if he hadn't stopped to take a slow drink of water only to see Misha over 100 yards behind him doing his best to keep up.

Jeff swore and moved off the hot asphalt into the shade of a tree just off the road. He didn't want to stop; he wanted to put as many miles between them and that town as possible, and if they stopped now in the middle of the day it would be like they hadn't even tried.

"Come on, I'm not going to wait for your all day," he yelled so Misha could hear him, glaring against the sun and in anger. He hated this situation. Hated that Michael had backed him into a corner, he couldn't have said no. Who knew what they would have done to him if he'd ended up staying there, what he would have become? Jeff hated that he couldn't save more of them, he hadn't been able to even look at Alec as they were leaving town, couldn't look at that smug grin on Michael's face either not if he didn't want to get shot.

And now he was stuck, stuck with this man who shouldn't be his responsibility.

"Pick up the pace, or I'm going to leave you," he yelled again.

It should have been an easy thing to do - to just turn around and keep walking. To not pay attention as Misha fell further and further behind. The other man wasn't out of shape, or else he wouldn't have been able to keep up as well as he had been up to this point, but Jeff had been doing this for months; he could keep up this same pace for hours, and it was apparent Misha couldn't. He should just keep going, let Misha take care of himself. He wasn't here to save the world - it was far too late for that. As it was they were all lucky to be alive in the first place.

And yet he couldn't. He couldn't turn back to the road and keep going. Couldn't leave the other man there as much as he might have liked to. And so he waited in the shade until Misha had caught up to him. He sighed and jerked his head toward the tree.

"Take that off and sit down for a minute," he ordered roughly, before he winced at the comparison his mind made as he saw Misha lower his head as he dropped his pack and skulked towards the tree to sit down like he'd told him. It was the same way Misha had moved when Michael had been ordering him around and fuck if he wanted to start comparing himself to that psychopath.

He rolled his eyes and dropped his own pack, taking a bottle of water with him before he went to lean against the tree as well. He cracked open the bottle and drank slowly, finishing off half the bottle in one go before he offered the rest to Misha.

The other man hesitated before taking the bottle and drinking it down quickly.

"If you're thirsty you can drink, you know," Jeff pointed out, half in amusement and half in disgust that it appeared that Misha felt he had to ask to drink the water he was carrying. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; why couldn't he have just died? It would have been so much easier.

"Look, I don't know what Michael was doing to you…" Which was an outright lie; Jeff knew exactly what Michael had been doing to Misha – and they both knew it. "But I'm not him; you're an adult, I'm an adult, you do what you want," he told him. "If you want to stop and have a drink, do it, if you want to go your own way, do it, if you want to tell me to go fuck off, do it."

Jeff watched Misha; for a moment he didn't say anything, just sat there leaning against the tree staring down into the grass.

"I was just looking for some shoes," Misha started, surprising Jeff. "I'd been walking for weeks and my shoes had worn through. I just needed a new pair and then I would have been on my way." Jeff sucked in a breath when he realized what Misha was telling him. "I didn't have anything to trade, but who does? I lost everything that night." It seemed no one needed a reference for that night; it was something that would forever be etched in their collective conscience, _that night_, and anyone would know what they meant. "All I had were the clothes on my back.""There weren't as many of them there when I arrived as there are now." He was picking at the grass, pulling at the blades between his fingers, ripping them from the ground occasionally as he spoke. "I told them I couldn't do anything I'd leave if I could just get some shoes, but Michael said they couldn't just give them to me – I had to earn them, since I didn't have anything to trade."

Jeff felt his stomach roll again when he remembered what Michael had told him; how they'd tried Misha out in other jobs before they'd ended up at the last, and he felt sick all over again.

"Couldn't you have just left?" Jeff asked, interrupting, he knew, but it seemed like that would have been the obvious thing to do.

"Those guns aren't just for show; they have a few guys on guard all the time." Misha shook his head slowly. "I wouldn't have made it out. I was a yoga teacher, not a ninja, though that would have come in pretty handy – I'll have to remember that for next time." For the first time since he'd met him Jeff saw the corners of his mouth lift slightly; it wasn't quite a smile but it wasn't the same beaten-down look he'd been wearing either.

They sat quietly for a while longer, just listening to the sounds of nature around them. Jeff often wondered how nature had seemed to survive. So many animals and plants and things seemed completely unharmed by the events of that night, like nothing had happened at all – it was almost wrong that they continued on the way they always had without even a care that so much had been lost.

Eventually Jeff pulled himself up again brushing the grass off his pants – though really it was an exercise in futility; his clothes would never be clean so what was a few more bits of grass?

"Come on." He offered a hand to Misha, who looked up at it like he wasn't exactly sure what to make of the gesture. Instead of taking his hand Misha stood up from the ground in one easy motion – Jeff rolled his eyes – a lot of good something like that did you now – but he kept his mouth shut. Picking up his bag, Jeff slung it over his shoulders again. "I want to put as much distance between us as them as possible before we bed down for the night," Jeff told him as he started heading out to the road again.

They didn't really talk much after that. Just kept walking – though Jeff slowed his pace just slightly so Misha could keep up without pushing himself too hard.

And that's how their first day together went. Walking in near silence until the sun dipped below the tree line forcing them off the road and in search of a place to sleep for the night.

* * *

  
They seemed to settle into a sort of rhythm after that first day. It was a sort of tentative thing; Jeff still didn't know how to talk to this other man, and so he didn't say much during the day as they walked - slower than he would have liked as well. They stopped occasionally, for lunch and water and then again at night, and during those times Misha talked. Sometimes he told long stories about his old life, about people he'd known, about Michael and his clan, about the things he'd witnessed that night, other times he kept things short.

He'd tried asking Jeff about his life, about where he'd come from any family and friends he'd had before - but Jeff was tight lipped on all those subjects. Misha had learned quickly that it was best to keep conversation centered on himself. Jeff seemed easier that way; he asked questions at times, even laughed once or twice, which surprised even himself.

And so that was how their days went. They were up with the sun and walked until the sun made its way down behind the trees again. Not exactly an exciting life, Jeff knew, but he felt pretty certain that it was better than any sort of life Misha could have been having if he wasn't there.

That afternoon they stopped under the shade of a large tree just off the road. They both leaned back against the trunk and let their eyes drift closed as they relaxed.

"I used to have this dog," Misha started, taking the opportunity to tell Jeff more about himself while they rested."She was this really ugly mutt." If Jeff's eyes had been open he could have seen the small smile of amusement that played across Misha's face at the memory. "I went to the pound one afternoon; I don't even remember why anymore, I guess I just wanted to see some animals. And she was there in this cage in the back; everyone was just passing her by, but she sat there happy as could be waiting for someone to come up to her."

"I was in." He grinned. "I got to leave with her that afternoon.""Of course I had no idea what to do with a dog once I got her home." Jeff smiled, or as close to a smile as he gave these days, content to just listen to Misha talk, to listen to the sound of his voice. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed having someone else around. He could talk for days about how he didn't need anyone else tagging along with him - didn't need anyone to slow him down or another mouth to feed, and yet now that Misha was here, Jeff couldn't seem to resent his presence. Not when he lay there at night and just let himself listen to the slow steady breathing beside him, not when he woke in the morning to the feeling of Misha warm beside him. If he kept his eyes closed it was almost like Mary was there, and he had to stop himself more than once from reaching out to touch him before he'd remembered that it was not his wife beside him.

"Had a dog before," Jeff started, surprising himself and Misha as he spoke. "She was beautiful." His smile turned more real as he thought about his girl.

"I had her years ago, when I was just a teenager." He spoke quietly. "I was walking down the street one day, and I came across this kid with a box of puppies. Stopped to look at them and there was one in the corner getting pushed out of the way by the other puppies." He smiled again, remembering his girl. "I knew she was the one for me right then. Took her home that afternoon, I had to bottle-feed her for weeks." He chuckled lightly. "But I loved her. Had her for years, too." Bisou had been his girl for years before he'd met Mary. And Bisou had loved Mary as much as Mary loved her - that was how Jeff had known Mary was the girl for him; any girl who loved his baby had high marks in his book, and it was the girl that his baby loved that was the one for him.

Misha tilted his head and smiled, listening to Jeff recount another of his memories - he shared so few that Misha always paid attention when Jeff spoke up.

"Thought about trying to find a dog or something after ..." He trailed off, no need to go into that night again they both knew. "But I could never stop, didn't want to risk it." He shrugged. "Though it would have helped with some of the nights." He shrugged again, starting to feel stupid that he was still talking, he had only meant to mention the fact that he'd had a dog as well - not start giving Misha a rundown of his mental health over the last few months - and yet he kept on. "Would have helped, I think, to have someone to talk to. It gets lonely out here."

He sighed, didn't say the obvious, that he wasn't alone anymore, that he had someone to talk to - though he didn't really make use of it. Instead, Jeff opened his bottle of water again and took a slow drink before he stood, effectively ending the conversation. "We should get a move on; want to get in a few more miles before the sun goes down."

Misha nodded and got to his feet easily; Jeff envied him that. He didn't know if it was because he was older or that Misha had his yoga training but he never grunted the way Jeff did when he stood up or sat back down again. He made every movement seem so easy. Jeff rolled his eyes at himself mentally before he turned back to the road and started out again. They could get in another 10 miles or so before the day was up if they kept a steady pace.

* * *

  
Jeff started to lose track of the days he'd spent with Misha, that day in town fading after each day of monotony, until it was almost like Misha had been with him for months.Jeff was fairly sure it hadn't been that long, but he just couldn't remember the exact number.

In the time they'd been together he'd learned a lot about Misha; where he'd grown up, how he'd gone to school to get his degree in social theory, how he'd worked as a carpenter to help put himself through school – as a man in the construction business Jeff could really appreciate someone who worked hard for the things they wanted out of life, and he was even more impressed when Misha told him he'd built his own house, something that had always been a dream of Jeff's, but he'd always been too busy to get that far.

"When I finished with school my folks bought me a plane ticket to anywhere I wanted." Misha was relating another story of his life that afternoon while they took a break to eat and rest some, laying in a field of long grass and shielding their eyes from the sun. "I ended up going to Nepal."

Jeff found himself arching an eyebrow under the arm he had thrown over his face to keep the sun out of his eyes. "Nepal?"

"Yeah, I don't know, I was a kid," Misha shrugged. "I thought it would be cool. I ended up going to this monastery the second day I was there, and it was just..." Jeff lifted his arm enough to see Misha waving his hands in the air as he tried to search for the right words. "I ended up staying for a few months, studying there at the monastery."

"You really are a piece of work, you know that?" Jeff said, shaking his head at the younger man.

"I just have a varied array of interests."

"Sure you do."

"Anyway, that's how I ended up getting involved in yoga. When I got back I kept studying meditation and it just seemed to really fit for me. My parents were a little disappointed, I think, but I loved it." Jeff saw the smile curling easy across Misha's lips; he liked the sight, he decided. It was good to see a real smile.

"I never understood how any of that could be comfortable, or relaxing, or whatever the fuck yoga is supposed to be."

Misha laughed, small and quiet but it was there. "If you do it right it's really easy to relax."

"Folding yourself in half is relaxing?" Jeff asked doubtfully.

"It can be."

"I'll just take your word on that."

"I'll teach you sometime," he offered. "If you want."

"We'll see, kid."

Jeff lay his arm across his face again, blocking out the bright sun over head as they lay in the grass. His body approved of these breaks, liked stretching out, warm and languid under the sun for an hour or so each afternoon. It had taken some getting used to, this stopping - after months of going going going, to stop, rest, breathe .... it was much needed.

They lay beside one another, listening to the sounds around them, bugs hiding in the tall grass, a bird sweeping over head just a quick shadow before it was gone, the sound of the wind blowing cool against their faces rustling the grass with its movement.

It was almost as if things were normal, like they weren't on this insane trek across the country, they hadn't both lost everything that was important and loved in their lives, like they hadn't both been on the move for so long that it was easy to forget what it was like living in one place. Like all they'd ever known was the road, the sound of feet slapping against asphalt over and over again for the entire day, stopping at night sore and exhausted.

Here, though, lying in the grass, it was like none of that had happened, like they could be lying in any field of grass enjoying the warm weather.

Even the feeling of a warm body beside him was enough to make him forget, enough to make the coils around his heart unwind just a bit, enough to still the racing thoughts of his mind the way only the presence of Mary had before.

Laying here with Misha felt like rest, like peace.

He didn't want to get up, didn't want to open his eyes and remember where they really were, didn't want to go back to the road. He just wanted to stay there and forget about everything else. It would have been nice, easy even.

And when Misha reached out, slow and tentative, like he expected to be hit, to brush his fingers against the back of Jeff's hand - it was like an electric shock and the most soothing caress he'd ever experienced. He tried to remember the last time he'd been touched, really touched.

Months.

Months and Months.

Jeff didn't move, didn't pull away from Misha's slow easy touch; instead, he sucked in a slow breath and waited.

When Jeff didn't pull away Misha grew more confident, it seemed, reaching out with sure motions, twisting their hands until they were palm to palm. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, not when he was being touched like this, touched at all. And Jeff lay there, arm over his face still; he couldn't move it for fear that this would all be a dream. He kept his eyes closed so all there was was touch.

The soft crush of grass beside him, the slow steady breathing, warm breath against his hand, soft wet lips pressing against the back of his hand.

He'd missed this, missed the way skin felt against his own, the way lips felt against his skin. Against his lips.

A low strangled groan slipped from him when those warm sweet lips moved to his, pressing down with practiced ease. And Jeff let it happen – it had been so long, so long since he'd been close to anyone, what would it hurt to kiss this man?

And the hand over his face moved away, and Jeff opened his eyes to stare into those bright blue eyes just inches from his own. With both hands pressed against the side of his face, Jeff pulled Misha closer and kissed him, hard and hungry, rolling them over so Misha was pressed onto his back in the warm grass now Jeff looming over him.

What did it hurt?

Why shouldn't he do this now? Take a little comfort in the warm body that slept beside him each night. The soft mewls of want were enough confirmation that Misha wanted this, that he wanted Jeff.

Why shouldn't he take?

He thrust his tongue forward as he kissed the other man, sweeping into his mouth, sliding over teeth and fighting with his tongue as they kissed. It was hard, and filled with a desperate need Jeff had never felt before. And in the back of his mind he couldn't help the comparison that was forming.

Kissing Mary had never been like this; her lips were always soft and acquiescing beneath his, she didn't squirm and buck beneath him the way Misha did. He could see her, stretched out beneath him, eyes filled with love and desire as she opened herself to him.

And when he opened his eyes now all he saw was that dark of desire, nothing of the woman he loved. And suddenly Jeff was pulling back, pushing Misha away as he scrambled to put space between them.

"Fuck," he swore quietly, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "Fuck."

He didn't look at Misha, couldn't let himself or he just might do something he would regret.

"I'm not Michael, fuck, I thought you knew that." Jeff's tone was hard and biting as he spoke. "I don't want you do that, I don't need you to do that. I'm not some creep like him."

"I know you're not."

"Then why?"

"I just ... I thought..." he trailed off without finishing his thought. And Jeff didn't prompt him, there were too many thoughts swirling through his mind now. He'd been ready to take this man here and now, without a thought for his wife. It was bad enough that Misha was trying to offer his body to him; it was even worse that he would even think about taking that.

He let out a shaky breath and pulled himself up with a grunt, ignoring the protests of his body, the desire that still coursed through his veins as he pulled his pack on again.

"We should get moving. I saw a sign a while back, there should be a town up here." He didn't look back at Misha or wait for him to get up, and put on his own pack before he started toward the road. He just needed to talk, needed to forget about the strange peace he'd felt that afternoon.

* * *

They didn't make the town before nightfall, but Jeff felt pretty confident they'd make it before the next day. They needed some supplies and he needed a chance to get away from Misha for a time, and exploring what he hoped was an abandoned town would be a good chance to do that. He just needed to sort out his thoughts, work through some of the things that had been spinning around in his brain since that afternoon.

He hadn't looked at Misha since they left that field – he couldn't bring himself to. He'd kept his eyes down or focused on other things throughout the afternoon and that evening as they settled down for the night - focusing on building a fire, and then heating up some of the food they had left. He only responded in grunts or with as few words as possible when the need arose, but otherwise they spent the rest of the day in relative silence.

Things were easier when it was just him. He didn't have to think about how much he really had wanted to take what Misha had offered him, didn't have to have images of his wife beneath him when he was with someone else, didn't have to think about how lonely it had been, didn't know how lonely it had been. And then Misha had to come along and fuck everything up. He hated the way it was so easy to be with him, the way he found himself smiling and laughing when he'd thought he'd never be able to do either again.

Misha had changed so much about his life in the short time they had known one another and Jeff found himself loving and hating every single thing that had changed.

It was getting cooler in the evenings, and while he might have put out the fire before they bedded down for the night before, they needed the heat now. He wondered how they would get by when winter came - it was lucky they were heading south in any case and he hoped it would give them some respite from the winters he was used to.

And it was with the crackling fire and the creak of crickets in the dark that Jeff let his eyes close and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the sun that filtered in through his window, grumbling and turning into his pillow seeking just a few more minutes of sleep before the day began.

Mary stretched beside him, arms thrown over her head, and he could imagine the way it pulled at the little bit of silk she had worn to sleep and he smiled into his pillow and stretched out a hand, his fingers curled easily around the warm curve of her hip and he pulled her close, settling her hips against his own, so that his chest was pressed against her back as he buried his face in the crook of her neck kissing softly, already feeling the way that smile he loved so much bloomed across her face.

"Morning." Her voice was quiet, still drowsy with sleep.

"Morning." His own much rougher, sleep clinging with its tight grip even as moved further into wakefulness.

They didn't talk much in the mornings, neither of them particularly excited about leaving their bed for the day; they had always been night people, staying up to all hours talking, touching, kissing, laughing. But morning always came, pulling them away from the other no matter how hard they tried to push it away.

Jeff stroked his thumb across the slight curve of her belly and continued pressing sleep sweet kisses into her hair and across her shoulder.

"Going to make it hard to get up, if you keep doing that."

"Maybe I don't want you getting up."

She turned in his arms, pressing herself against his chest in the surrounding warmth of his arms. It was only when she was facing him that Jeff let himself open his eyes. This was exactly what he wanted to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life, those beautiful eyes and that teasing playful smile.

"Going to keep me in bed all day?" she asked before she tilted her neck, angling herself up just enough to kiss him blocking any chance he'd had to answer her question. It was easier this way, kissing like neither one of them had things, responsibilities they had to get to that day. Like they could spend the rest of the day in bed just like he'd suggested.

"It's alright," she said when she pulled back, lips pressed together, and Jeff frowned.

"What is?"

"To love him."

"Who?"

"You'll understand later." Her smile was sad now as she stroked her fingertips across his cheek. "I want you to be happy, even if I'm not the one who gets to do that."

Jeff rolled his eyes and kissed her again. "Now you're just being silly, Who else would even get the chance when I have you?"

"You'll understand later," she said again.

His brow furrowed as he tried to understand now, but he couldn't make sense of what she meant. Couldn't wrap his mind around the words, but before he could press the issue further she was kissing him again. Soft and hungry, tongue warm and teasing against his lips seeking entrance and enticing at the same time.

And Jeff let himself be swept away by it.

* * *

  
It was the shout that woke him, dragging him with a start away from his dream. And before he could make sense of what was happening around him he was being dragged to his feet. There were men – Jeff was still trying to understand what was happening too distracted to count them, trying to make sense of what was happening. He looked across the smoldering fire to find Misha held by two of the men, two others were holding his own arms.

"We finally caught up," came a pleased and familiar voice.

And there just behind Misha stood Michael, a twisted smile on his face. "I was starting to think we weren't going to be able to catch up. We did give you an unprecedented head-start after all; one whole week."

Jeff was trying to form the words, still not understanding what was happening – Michael? Here? And so far away from his town? It didn't make sense. Why was he here? What did he want?

"Well, you didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?" Michael chuckled with none of the fake politeness that it had held the last time Jeff had seen this man. "Why would we just let you leave like that?" He shook his head and clucked his tongue, stepping into their makeshift camp, kicking dirt over the remains of the fire. "You see, things get so frightfully boring these days; we needed a way to liven things up."

Things were starting to click for Jeff.

"I always was a fan of hunting; my father used to take me when I was younger." Jeff felt the pit of his stomach drop. Hunting? They had beenhunted for the last few weeks. "Suddenly, the idea occurred to me some months after we set up in our humble little town - what better way to create some excitement than hunting? Though, with the way we have to gather food these days, traditional hunting didn't hold the same appeal." He looked fondly at Misha, now, and Jeff wanted to punch him - to drive his fist into the other man's face again and again until he couldn't look at Misha like that ever again.

"The first time we tried it, things were a little .... sloppy." Jeff could see the distaste on Michael's face, and he willed himself not to be sick at that thought. "But there have been a few travelers that have happened through our area since then, and we've greatly improved our technique." He could see how pleased Michael was that they'd managed to get the hunting of men down to an art.

"Too much blood if you use guns, you understand." Jeff tried not to roll his eyes. "It's the tracking that is the real thrill, and of course the look on your face now that we've caught you."

"So now what?" Jeff spat. "Going to let us go and then track us again?"

"Oh, no, you misunderstand. We couldn't rightly call this hunting if we left you alive, could we? Besides, it's time Misha came home." He smiled and Misha was suddenly fighting, pulling an arm free from his captors.

"No! No I'm not going back to that!" He slugged one of the men that held him in the stomach, though it didn't do much; the two men easily caught hold of Misha and his flailing arms in just a few moments.

"Now now, pet." Michael clicked his tongue and stepped forward to stroke Misha's cheek. "We'll take good care of you, just like we always did."

Misha spat at Michael's face, earning him the butt of a gun to the back of his head.

It was Jeff's turn to struggle now; he had more luck than Misha, his fist connecting squarely to one of his captors' jaw and dropping him easily. He turned to the other man, wanting to deal with him before he made his move on the rest of them; he'd spent the year running, but he wasn't going to do that now. He wasn't going to sit there and let those men take the only thing that had made him smile in months.

It was the sound of the shotgun cocking behind him that stilled his fist just mere inches from the other man's face.

He turned slowly to see his own gun pointing straight at his chest.

"So shoot me," he challenged.

"Not yet." Michael stilled the man who held the gun with a hand. "We don't use guns for hunting; I thought I told you that, Jeff." He shook his head like he was talking to a child, having to repeat the same thing over and over. "No, it will be much more satisfying to know you'll die slowly." He smirked and nodded his head.

The shot Jeff had been waiting for never came; it would have been easier, just one shot to end it all. Instead, it was slow and painful. The first bright blossom of pain came in the form of a fist to his cheek, followed swiftly by another at his hip and slowly he was overwhelmed by punches until he crumpled to the ground, curling around himself only to have the sharp connection of a boot with his back as his only reward.

It carried on until Jeff knew he was dead, until there was no use holding on, until there was only darkness.

* * *

  
Death was easy, easier than he would have imagined. If he'd known it was this easy he would have given up a long time ago. There was only darkness; it surrounded him completely, though rather than being suffocating or fearful it was comforting - welcoming him into its warm embrace like a lost lover.

_Mary._

Jeff reached for her, searching through the black for his wife. After all this time she would be there, right within his grasp; he'd been waiting for so long to hold her again.

_Mary._

He twisted and turned, grasping and stretching, reaching through the darkness that swallowed him up. Only now it was less welcoming, it was pulling him down, holding him too tight, keeping him from her. He let out a growl of frustration pushing it off him, shaking his way free moving away from its embrace.

"Mary!"

He called her name as he raced away from the darkness that waited to swallow him up again, looking for her anywhere she could be, but there was nothing here, nothing but the blackness. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she was supposed to be there with him, they were supposed to be together again.

Jeff groaned, turning onto his back, his legs stretching out from their curled position, making him wince. It hurt, hurt more than death should. He was dead, he wasn't supposed to hurt anymore; that was for the living. And he already knew he wasn't part of that forgotten group any longer.

He tried to move his leg, and a shot of pain sailed up his spine. He moved his arm and another twist of pain.

It was only when he opened his eyes, and saw the canopy of branches and leaves over his head that Jeff realized the truth.

"Fuck."

He wasn't dead.... as usual.

He sat up slowly; every muscle in his body screamed and ached from the abuse he'd taken. If he'd had a mirror Jeff wouldn't have bothered looking into it; what was the use? He'd catalogued each and every hit he'd taken up to the point that he'd blacked out. He didn't need a mirror to see the damage that had wrought. He could feel enough of it.

Once he'd taken stock of himself, and made sure everything was still in working order, more or less, and intact, mostly, Jeff pulled himself up to his feet unsteadily. He took another minute to make sure he wasn't going to fall over; it would be just like him to fall over and give himself a black eye after everything. When he felt steady on his feet he started to take stock of his surroundings.

The trampled remains of their fire, crumbs and empty bottles, but that was it. There was no sign of either of their packs, any food or water, his rifle or shells, either. Michael had taken everything. Jeff groaned, Michael had everything - he had Misha.

He stumbled and lowered himself carefully onto a fallen tree, dropping his head into his hands. What was he supposed to do now? Go after that man? Get himself killed trying to save Misha? What was Misha to him? Was he even worth getting himself killed over? He was lucky to be alive now; it would be pushing his luck to go up against Michael and his men, completely unarmed and beaten the way he was.

It was in the quiet that he heard the quiet thrum of a nearby stream, and it was that heavenly sound that pulled Jeff to his feet, turning in the direction of the sound. He grabbed one of the empty bottles that had been left behind before he went stumbling through the brush toward the sound he heard, letting it lead him.

He dropped to his knees when he found the source and pressed his face down into the cool running water, sighing as it washed over his face. Only once his face was numb with the cold of the water did Jeff sit up and bring a handful of water up to his mouth, drinking deeply. And once he felt the water sloshing cold in his stomach he dipped the bottle into the stream, filling it up.

He let himself fall to the grass once his thirst was sated, laying back and staring up into the sky; the sun was already starting its downward fall - he must have been out for quite a while. What was he supposed to do now though? He could continue on toward the town that should be just a few more miles ahead, but what would he do when he got there? He didn't have anything now, and it would be unlikely that he'd get lucky enough to find a gun to replace his, let alone the other things he needed now.

He could go back, find Michael, and bring Misha back.

Of course, that was as unlikely as anything else that had entered his mind. How the fuck was he supposed to save Misha when he hadn't even been able to save himself from those men? Not to mention there were five of them, and their most serious injury was likely a broken jaw. He would be lucky to get past one, let alone all five.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked out loud - and for once in all the months he'd been out on the road, he wished there had been someone there to answer him. Instead, all that he heard was the sound of water running and the quiet chirping of insects.

"Tell me!" There was no one to answer and yet shouting, demanding the answer made him feel better. Made it feel like there was the possibility of someone hearing him, despite the fact that he was completely alone, more so than he'd ever been it felt like.

Jeff drew in a slow breath before he sat up again, wincing at the pain. The sun was dropping lower; dusk was threatening to fall soon. He could lay here and start up the next morning toward the other town, or he could go back.

He knew the answer already; he'd known before he even started debating it.

He would go back, he would rescue Misha, or get himself killed trying - more likely the latter.

There were a few things he needed to do though before night fell, he wasn't going to just run in there like an idiot and get himself shot. He was going to prepare as best he could, he wouldn't face death like a coward, he would charge into it weapons raised fighting for the one good thing in his life.

* * *

  
"Jeff, I can't," Mary pleaded, panting after having spent the last few hours running (more like being dragged) through the woods.

"Mary, we can't stop, we have to keep going."

"I can't, please ... I just need to stop for a minute, just a minute, please."

Jeff shook his head. "Come on, baby, I know it's hard but we have to keep going, please." It wasn't safe yet, he knew it, the world was still burning, he could smell the fires, knew they were close just waiting to swallow them up.

"Just a minute, baby, please."

If he hadn't been weighed down with all that he was carrying already he would have picked her up and taken her himself, carried her for as long as he could just so they could have gotten further away. He should have done that, dropped everything he was carrying and taken his wife out of that place.

"Just a minute," he agreed; Mary sat herself down right there on the ground, leaning back against the pack on her back. She looked like she was ready to pass out right there. Now that they'd stopped, Jeff wanted to pass out, too; it was easier to keep going if they stayed on the move, but now ... not that they'd stopped, all he wanted to do was lay down, to sleep, to rest.

He couldn't, though, couldn't let himself sit either or he would sleep; he needed to stay up to keep moving, to get Mary up if something happened, and so he stayed on his feet pacing. Walking in one direction and making a quick turn to go the other direction over and over again, so long that there should have been a line in the ground. He was almost surprised there wasn't anything.

It was the howl off in the woods that made him stop. He looked in the direction they'd come, squinting into the darkness trying to make out anything, but there was only darkness. Trees and darkness.

That was when it happened. It started in the trees, the leaves rustling and branches trembling as trunks of the massive trees around them started swaying, and then as if it had started above them and traveled down the trees, the ground began to shake. Jeff had experienced an earthquake before when he had been a much younger man back when he'd lived in California, but this was different. This was like the entire earth was shaking, like it just might shake apart completely and send them flying out into space - and after the events of the last day he wouldn't be surprised if that was just what happened.

He stumbled as the shaking increased, making it hard to stay on his feet, to even move from the spot where he stood.

"Just stay right there, Mary," he called, carefully making his way back to her. He swore at his own nervous energy that had taken him so far from her, he'd been on the furthest point in his pacing when he'd stopped, and now Mary was so far away.

Mary had curled up around herself, clutching her knees against her chest, pressing her cheek against the tops of her knees as she looked to Jeff waiting for him to reach her. "I'll be right there, baby," he assured, her taking another slow step in her direction.

He didn't make it. He couldn't have made it. The ground opened up faster than he would have thought possible, and rather than the abyss he would have thought should be there, there were only flames. Giant and scorching, they burst from under the surface of the earth and shot toward the skies. Jeff could only watch as they consumed her. She didn't even get a chance to scream before she was gone. She had been there and then all that was left were flames.

Jeff stood there for one long moment before he ran, ran faster than he'd ever known he could, putting as much distance between himself and the flames, his heart wrenching the entire time, pulling him back toward the fire scorching against his back, urging him back, telling him to throw himself into those flames.

_"You have to live."_

It was only Mary's voice in his mind that kept him going. He wanted to lay down right there and let the flames take him, to wait for them to catch up and swallow him. He ached for it, ached for the burning tongues to swallow him, devour him, and yet he kept running, one foot in front of the other again and again until his muscles screamed, until his heart threatened to give out, until his lungs were ready to explode – only then did he stop. He fell to his knees right where he stood, and lowered his head to the ground as he cried out, yelling himself hoarse.

* * *

  
_"It's alright to love him."_

Jeff started working as soon as he got to his feet. He started gathering sticks large and small and dividing them up into two separate piles. He dug around in the dirt until his fingers were raw pulling out rocks and adding them to his growing collection.

_The warm weight of Misha against his side, the feeling of his lips soft and yielding against his own._

He stripped town the smaller branches he'd collected, pulling them apart into long fibers he could tie together. He worked until his fingertips were screaming, pulling and tearing and only when he'd finished with the small pile of sticks he'd collected did he stop. Then the work of making rope started, he worked the fibers he'd pulled apart tying them together and creating rope - not a long amount just enough to work with. He created several strands of rope.

_The sound of Misha's laugh, easy and right._

Using his newly formed rope Jeff wove together the larger sticks, creating something of a bat. He used the rocks he'd collected to shave down the end of one stick into a point. He'd never killed a man before, and he prayed today would not be the first, but he would be prepared if it came to it. He worked quickly and steadily, until he had two makeshift bats and something like a knife.

Satisfied with his work, he pulled himself up and filled his pockets with as many rocks he could carrying without weighing himself down too much. He carried one of the bats in his hand the other he put in the back of his jeans along with the sharpened stick he'd made as well.

When he'd finished Jeff cracked open the bottle of water he'd filled earlier and drank slowly, only until his thirst was just quenched. And it was with that final action that Jeff nodded and returned to the road.

In one direction was the town, possibly the things he needed to survive. In the other there was only death, but there was Misha as well. It wasn't a difficult choice. He stepped out onto the asphalt and turned in the opposite direction of the town and started running.

His body ached and pulled in all the places he was bruised and sore from his earlier beating and yet Jeff didn't let it slow him. He raced down the highway, looking for anything that would give away the groups location. Anything that would help him find Misha.

It was just as the sun started its final descent behind the trees that Jeff saw smoke. It was faint and still a way off, but he felt confident that was them - they hadn't encountered any other travelers on their way through the area on their first time through. He fixed the spot in his mind and pushed himself harder, running as fast as he could.

Darkness had fallen long before he reached the edges of their camp. Michael and his group camped right off the highway rather than pushing further into the trees the way Jeff did, so they were easier to find. He ducked into the trees and circled around their group. His heart was pounding in his chest, so hard that he thought it would surely give him away, and yet the men in the group went about their business like nothing was amiss, probably confident that he'd been left for dead.

There was laughter through the trees, and Jeff chanced looking out. All five men were there in camp, along with Misha. He was seated beside Michael, hands tied behind his back while the others ate and drank. It looked like Michael was trying to feed Misha from his fingers, but he refused - Jeff had to remind himself not to give his position away when Michael slapped Misha hard across the face.

Surprise was his only advantage here, and it wouldn't do to give it away now before he'd managed to even the odds even a little.

He waited for a long time, so long that his muscles started seizing up in his crouched position. But soon the fire began to die out and the men either lay down to sleep some or put themselves up around their small camp as guards. Jeff waited until he heard the snores coming from those who were sleeping before he started to move.

He crept slowly through the trees, the darkness of the night cloaking him as he made his way around to where one man stood at guard. It was easy to catch him off-guard, and a hand over his mouth ensured that his muffled cries didn't travel far enough to alert the other guard. As much as Jeff would have liked to kill him, he didn't; he just held a  
hand over his mouth and nose until he passed out - he wouldn't be out forever, but hopefully it would be enough to give him enough time to get Misha and leave. He pulled the other man's gun from its spot on his hip, tucking it into his jeans along with his other weapons before he stalked towards the other guard.

The second man proved a bit more of a fight than the first. Jeff clubbed him over the head, in the end, and he felt the warm splatter of blood when his weapon connected with the other man's skull before he dropped to the ground. Jeff checked his pulse before he gathered up his gun as well. He felt a bit better now that he had two guns, but there were still three other guns to deal with.

Slowly, he moved further into the ring of their camp, shuffling his feet so as not to disturb anything and give himself away as he moved. As he neared the center of the camp, all he wanted to do was get Misha and run. to free his hands and leave - but his brain reminded him that this was a group of hunters; they did this for entertainment, and when they woke to find two of their party had been put down and Misha taken ... well, it would likely make this their most exciting hunt yet. No, he couldn't leave them the ability to chase after them when he left with Misha.

He made his way to where the first man lay snoring; he pressed a hand over the man's mouth and nose pressing down hard. The man woke and struggled, kicking and squirming trying to get free of Jeff's hold, but in the end Jeff won, his position giving him much more leverage.

Still on his knees, Jeff started when he felt the cool steel of a gun pressed against the back of his head. "We underestimated you." The man's voice was rough and Jeff could hear the laugh behind the words. So this was how he was going to die. On his knees, without even so much as a glance at the man who would end his life. The man took the guns Jeff had taken from the men he'd incapacitated earlier, and tossed them aside.

The gun nudged the back of his head. "On your feet." Jeff hesitated for a moment, weren't they going to kill him? Why bother getting him to his feet for that? Surely they had to realize he'd already incapacitated three of them; they couldn't let him live now, no matter how _distasteful_ all his blood would be when it came spilling out of him.

"You can leave that nice little number on the ground, too." Jeff's eyes dropped to the club he'd set down while he dispatched the man who lay in front of him now – possibly dead, he didn't know or care at the moment, more concerned about the living and breathing man with a gun pointed at his head.

It's at that moment that Jeff remembered the other weapons he had with him, stuffed under his shirt and rubbing raw against his back. The second club. The sharpened stick. The club likely wouldn't do him much good; he'd only have one shot at this if he was going to make it work, and it was not the time to be squeamish. He knew that now. Never had death been so close to him than it was then, literally breathing down his neck, reminding him with each breath that it was either him or the man  
behind him.

It was an easy choice to make.

"Alright, alright," Jeff spoke quietly, his voice ringing with defeat.

He pushed himself up slowly, rising to a crouch before he started to turn. And it was during the turn that he reached behind him for the stick that he'd hidden away under his shirt, ripping it out and lunging for the man. As before, surprise was his one advantage and he knocked the man to the ground, though his rudimentary knife failed to make contact the way he'd hoped.

Now though he was on top of the other man, the gun practically pressed against his chest now. He moved on pure adrenaline, not thinking; just doing. He pushed the other gun away from his chest, fingers wrapping around the other man's wrist, slamming into the ground again and again, anything to loosen his grip. Anything to get that gun as far away from him as possible.

The man struggled, of course, pushing at Jeff's face with dirty hands. A knee connected with Jeff's middle and he had to fight to keep from curling in on himself, his already bruised and battered body protesting against further injury. Just a little more, just a little more, he told himself, just a little more and he'd be alright.

Suddenly, Jeff was being pushed up with surprising speed, and in that brief moment of surprise he found himself on his back. He'd lost his leverage, he was going to die, it would just be a matter of moments before that gun made its way back to his chest and then he'd be done for.

It would be easier to die now, knowing he'd fought for life. He hadn't just walked willingly towards death, he hadn't accepted it, hadn't expected it and yet it was still coming for him, as inexorably as it always did.

It was only adrenaline that kept him moving now, kept him fighting. And it was adrenaline that saved him. He still had one hand curled around his stick, and he managed to get enough speed behind it before he connected with the other man's jaw sending him reeling.

It was the break Jeff needed to regain the upper hand, and he had the gun knocked away just a moment later. And before he could stop to think about what he was about to do, he drove the stick down with one quick thrust. It entered the other man's chest with surprising ease, likely slipping between two ribs.

The other man's eyes grew wide as he realized what had happened the same time Jeff did.

Scrambling off the other man, Jeff couldn't only watch as he coughed up blood and writhed on the ground. He could see what was so distasteful about blood now, though he doubted very much any man Michael and his men had ever hunted had been given the chance to fight for life.

"That will be quite enough."

Jeff was growing very tired of being taken by surprise from behind like this. He almost wished they would shoot him instead of giving him another chance to gain the upper hand. He didn't have to look to know it was Michael behind him. He was all that was left now.

Michael and Misha.

He didn't know how many he'd killed; at least one, possibly more. His main concern now though was for Misha.

"You should have kept going." Michael's voice sounded sad, though whether it was for the man Jeff had obviously killed or the fact that he was going to have to resort to using a gun himself, Jeff didn't know. "You could have forgotten about us. You could have kept on going."

"I'm the stubborn sort."

"So I've noticed. It's a particularly troublesome character flaw you seem to have."

"I always thought it was rather charming."

"I'm afraid you've been sadly mistaken."

"So are you going to kill me now, or what?" Jeff asked, tired of this stupid cat and mouse game Michael seemed so fond of playing.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to."

Jeff sighed, wiped his hands on his jeans and stood, turning to face Michael.

"I hope you won't mind if I'd rather face you than get shot in the back."

Michael nodded. "A true man faces death head on."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Have you listened to yourself? Do you hear the things that come out of your mouth? Or did that night just drive you completely insane? Or maybe you were already?" Jeff had to wonder about this man and his motivations. "Only now you have the freedom to live out your sick world view with no one around to make you own up to it." He spat at his feet. "You try and act as civilized as you please, but in the end you'll never be anything other than a monster."

"Such words." Michael only shook his head, not rising to Jeff's insults.

"You talk big, and yet you're too chicken shit to even pull the trigger yourself." He glanced around for Misha, not seeing the other man behind Michael where he expected him. "You're just too much of a pussy to do it, aren't you?"

"Now see that's where you're mistaken." Michael pulled the hammer back on the gun he held in his hands. His hands were steady. "I have absolutely no problem pulling the trigger, but like I said before; guns are just so crude."

"Seem to work pretty well for your boys."

"Usually, yes," he agreed.

"Are you going to do some sort of monologue, now, or are you just going to kill me?" Jeff was growing tired of this. "I've been through enough shit, and I don't need to stand around listening to some insane asylum reject wax poetic about the state of humanity."

"Yes, you're quite right," Michael decided. "No use spouting off when you're the only one who'll hear it."

"Not quite the only one."

Michael turned suddenly, the gun trained on Jeff; behind him stood Misha, a gun leveled at Michael's back. Jeff didn't even bother to wonder how Misha found one of the many discarded guns without being seen, not when Misha was holding the one thing that would keep him alive. He could see Misha's hand trembling despite the firmness of his voice.

Michael didn't turn the gun from Jeff; instead, he merely glanced over his shoulder at Misha like he wasn't a threat at all. "Now, now, pet, let's not do anything we'llregret."

"Put the gun down." Misha managed to maintain the firm tone to his voice, focusing on Michael completely as he aimed the gun.

"It would be a shame if something happened to your new friend because you wouldn't put that gun down." His tone was as light and airy as if he was talking about the weather, but the threat was there as plain as day.

Jeff lifted his hands from his sides, holding them in front of his chest. "Hey – now there's no reason anyone needs to get shot today." There had already been more than enough killing for his taste, and he didn't particularly want to get shot himself. It was entirely possible that the three of them could leave this unharmed – or no more harmed than when they'd come into it.

"No!" Misha's voice wavered as he shouted his dissent. "No, I can't just let him leave here." Misha let his gaze drift to Jeff now, though he still held the gun with trembling hands straight at Michael's chest. "After the things he did to me?" He was incredulous. "The things he's doing to Alec, the things he'll do to anyone else who happens to go through that town? No, I won't let that happen again.""You were right; he is sick. He's sick and I can't just let him walk away from this." As he spoke, his hands steadied. There was nothing for Jeff to do now, not when he was the only unarmed man here. It was apparent that words were not going to change anyone's mind now.

Michael turned his gun from Jeff to Misha. "You selfish little..." He trailed off and his usually calm and serene front started slipping. "After everything we did for you – we took you in, gave you food, gave you a place to sleep at night, and kept you safe. And what, you just expected us to give it all to you out of the kindness of our hearts?"

Jeff wanted to intervene, wanted to step between the two men and stop this.

"I didn't ask for any of that, I didn't want to stay there with you.  
You just took what you wanted from me, used threats to keep me there." Misha's voice was firm now, filled with all the hate and pent-up anger he'd been storing all those months he'd had to deal with Michael and those he called friends. "I'm not going to let you do that to me anymore, not going to let you go back and do that to anyone else."

"Ungrateful-" Michael started again, taking a step in Misha's direction.

A shot rang out, startling in the quiet of the nature around them.

* * *

  
Jeff wasn't even sure how he made it back to the road again. He was pretty sure he'd been on his last legs back there, so for him to continue putting one foot in front of the other, even if he was leaning heavily against Misha, was pretty damn impressive. His muscles were screaming, aching for some relief, anything to ease the pain that coursed through his body with each step he took.

And yet they kept on, pushing on slowly.

They had to get away. As much as Jeff wanted to collapse right there in Michael's camp, Misha had been right; they couldn't stay. They'd taken as much as they could carry with them, including all the guns to discourage any of the men who weren't killed from following them. Jeff didn't think they could ever really stop worrying about them, but knowing they'd have to return to their own town before coming after them again with any sort of real weapons was encouraging.

His back ached; the bruises that he'd been doing his best to ignore earlier were now more prevalent than ever. He couldn't ignore each stab of pain that ran up his side as he walked. It made their progress slow - slower than Jeff had ever traveled before, and as much as he would have liked to speed things up he couldn't make his body do what he wanted.

They made slow progress, moving through the night. They were both tired and sore, and as the night wore on they were leaning against each other for support more and more.

"You were pretty stupid back there, you know." Jeff had to start talking or else he would have fallen asleep right there on his feet, stabbing pain and all.

"What, you mean saving your ass?"

"Playing the hero," Jeff clarified. "You could have gotten yourself killed." He gave him a pointed look. He'd tried to show Misha how to use a gun before, attempting to teach him how to hunt, in case he ever did follow through with his original plan of ditching him; at least he could let him go with a clean conscience knowing that Misha knew how to hunt and feed himself if he were on his own.

"Right, I suppose you had everything under control, then?"

"Course I did."

"Uh huh."

"It was stupid what you did; you didn't have to risk your life for me." He ran his tongue over his lips, dry and cracked after too long without water.

"Ditto, old man."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. You don't know me; I'm just some guy you got stuck with." Jeff didn't try to deny it, what would be the point? "Why would you ever even consider risking your life for me? You got beat up enough without coming back for more, to rescue someone you hardly even know."

Jeff shrugged; he'd thought the very same things, and yet it hadn't been an option for him to leave Misha behind. "You're all I got, kid." It could have been sweet, if it hadn't been completely and utterly true.

They lapsed into silence as they pushed on through the night. The sounds and rustling that used to keep him awake before he'd gotten used to sleeping out in the wild were sounding out full force around them now. They came at them from all sides; while the world seemed like nothing but an empty shell during the day, at night you could really tell just how much had survived. The earth pulsed and moved around them; animals and insects came out of their daylight hiding places.

Jeff was lucky they hadn't been too far from the town when they had been ambushed, so making up the distance wasn't too much of a hardship for them. Before the sky started turning grey on the horizon they reached the outskirts of this new town.

"Slowly, now," Jeff cautioned, though he doubted very much the warning was needed.

Cautiously they made their way into the town, taking sideroads when they could, checking for any signs of life as they went. Jeff would really hate to have to kill anyone again; there had already been more than enough of that for one night, but he wouldn't let them get swept up into the same sort of situation again either.

A slow and thorough check of the town and Jeff decided they were alone, which was a relief. The sun was starting to rise, but it was still more night than day.

"Let's find something with a sturdy roof, maybe a bed, if possible, and get some rest," Jeff suggested as he limped along with Misha towards a home that looked almost completely structurally sound.

They had to kick the door down to get inside, but it fell easily from its hinges with the most minimal of kicks. The home looked like it had been abandoned pretty quickly when things had gone down. There were still bowls and plates on the kitchen table, food in the cabinets too - that would have to be inspected later, but now was for sleeping.

It was like his body knew that it was almost time to sleep; it slowly started getting harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other, though with Misha's help he made it up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. It looked to be the master, though Jeff didn't feel up to inspecting the others to make sure. The bed was large and that was all that mattered at this point.

Falling on the bed face first, Jeff groaned. It had been so fucking long since he'd been able to lie on a real bed, he'd forgotten what it had been like - it was sinful and the most amazing thing he'd ever felt in his entire life. He never wanted to get up; he would lie right here for the rest of his days.

"God, you've got to lie down," Jeff said, reaching out a hand for Misha where he stood beside the bed. A quick tug had the other man collapsing onto the bed beside him. "Have you ever felt anything so fucking fantastic?"

Misha laughed. "It is pretty amazing," he agreed.

"It's more than amazing," Jeff protested. "This has got to be what heaven is like. Beds for as far as the eye can see, and you never have to get up." Jeff hummed in pleased self-satisfaction; now that would be the sort of heaven he could get behind.

"I always imagined heaven to be cloudier."

"Fuck off, it's mattresses."

"Whatever you say."

Jeff grunted his assent before he pushed himself up higher on to the bed. Pillows - just when this whole bed thing couldn't get any better, there were pillows. He groaned as he pressed his face into the stale fabric.

"We're never leaving," he declared, though even he knew that was a lie.

"Sure we aren't."

"Get some sleep," Jeff muttered, picking up the pillow beside him and lobbing it sloppily in Misha's direction; a low chuckle was the only indication that his target had his its mark.

* * *

  
It was quiet when Jeff woke, sunlight streaming in through a window - an actually honest-to-God window, complete with blinds and curtains - it's warm on his face, comforting as it wraps its way around the room, pulling everything into its embrace.

Jeff stretched, the only sound to be heard the slow, steady breathing of the man beside him. Jeff didn't even remember falling asleep, and he wonders now how long they've been out. He'd get up and try and figure out the time of day if this bed wasn't so Goddamn comfortable.

He was starting to rethink his need to keep moving, if only for this bed. He knew it was stupid, knew they were still too close to the men they'd left behind to stick around in this area, but it would have been nice. There would be other beds - or so Jeff hoped. Yawning, Jeff stretched his legs all the way down to his toes, and he wondered when he'd actually taken the time to kick off his boots - his shirt, too, he realized now that he was taking stock of his state of dress.

He must have been more tired than he'd realized, or he'd had a little help once he'd passed out.

Misha lay beside him, only in a pair of shorts. Miles and miles of bare skin there as he slept on, more obvious now the way the sun has changed the color of his skin – warm caramel until it reached the lighter shades that had been hidden by a shirt. Jeff had to look away or else his mind would start wandering, and that was never a good thing for his mind to do, especially after he'd just woken up.

Instead, he kicked off his jeans, rummaged around in one of their packs quietly for some water and drained it in one fell swoop, before he was clambering back into that warm heavenly bed beside Misha, his eyes easily drifting shut again.

It was the warm body curled up against his own that woke him the second time. A soft sigh as he stretched pressing himself forward was enough to drag him back into wakefulness. He was on his side this time, Misha's back pressed snuggly against his chest, curling himself protectively around the other man, arm slung possessively over his waist while he'd slept.

He pulled his hand back, startled at the position he'd found himself in and rolled onto his back. He thought about apologizing, but in the end decided it was safest not to mention anything about it at all. Misha turned as he did, lying on his stomach now, glancing up at Jeff with sleep-smudged eyes.

"Morning."

It was easier to tell now, but the sun was dipping down under the horizon this time; not quite morning.

"Something like that," Jeff murmured, his voice still clinging to sleep.

"Something like that."

A lazy grin curled its way across his face as Jeff stretched again; it was going to be hard sleeping on the ground again after this bed, and he didn't want to think about that much - not yet, at least. They could probably say here another day, at least another night - it was getting dark and he didn't want to travel in the dark unless they had to.

"I think we'll stay another night and head out some time tomorrow." He voiced his thoughts, glancing at Misha.

The other man nodded thoughtfully, but didn't say anything.

Jeff lay back again, staring up at the ceiling above them.

It was the dip of the mattress beside him that made Jeff look over. He'd moved away when he woke up curled around Misha, though Misha was much closer now than he should have been.

"I know… I know you're going to try and tell me to stop, that I don't need to do this," Misha started. "But I want to cut you off now before I start. I want to do this, and I hope you'll just give me a chance, okay?"

Jeff didn't get a chance to even frown with confusion before Misha was leaning forward, pressing his lips to Jeff's. There was less hesitance and more need in this kiss than there had been in the last. Jeff could feel it flowing hot and warm against his skin, just asking to be let in. Begging for Jeff to take, to open and just take.

He was tense, more than he should have been while his lips were so hungry for more. He sighed inwardly; how long did he have to go back and forth about this, how long did he have to deny himself? It had been so long since there had been anyone for him, and now here was this man … this man who was just as fucked up as he was, but maybe they could make this work - maybe if he stopped putting on the breaks, maybe if he stopped questioning everything and just let it happen.

Instead of pushing the other man away, Jeff's hands moved slowly, tentatively, fingertips sliding up over bare arms and curling around the back of Misha's neck, drawing him in closer as his tongue swept forward, seeking, wanting, tasting.

It was the soft hint of a moan that had Jeff breathing harder, licking and kissing and biting and taking. He wanted to drink him in, he wanted to take every bit of Misha inside himself and cradle it all.

Misha leant forward more, his hands roaming across Jeff's chest, finger-light touches becoming surer, more firm as they sought out bare skin, the warm liquid singing heat of skin against skin, flesh against flesh.

"Ah, ah." Jeff hissed as Misha pressed against a particularly sore spot, laughing a moment later. "Careful with me, I've had a rough few days."

"I'll do my best."

And words were lost again in a tangle of lips and tongue, whimpers and groans.

It was Jeff who pressed forward next. Fingers skating along bare back, muscle and bone and skin. The warm smooth expanse of skin all the more tempting. "Come here." Jeff pulled Misha against him, wincing at the feeling of muscles pulling and twisting in ways they shouldn't just yet, but he couldn't seem to make himself care.

Their lips met again, soft and lingering this time, taking their time; neither was pulling away now, exploring and tasting in ways they hadn't yet. It was new and brilliant, and Jeff let his tongue tease warm over Misha's lips, almost to the point of frustration, wringing a whimpered plea for more before he deepened the kiss drawing Misha closer as he surged forward.

It had been years since he'd kissed like this, lazy and slow, hungry and primal, kissing for the pleasure in it alone and nothing else. Years since he'd taken the time to simply kiss for kissing's sake. And God, it was even better than he'd remembered. The easy way something so simple as a brushing of lips over another's could make him melt, make his body go limp with desire and want, make him forget everything else in the world but that one other person.

He kissed Misha for what seemed like hours, hours and hours before they pulled away, drawing in long deep lungfulls of air, only to surge forward again kissing until the urge to breathe became too great to ignore.

"Fuck."

"You're not too bad at that."

"Had a little experience in my day."

"Sure you have, old man."

Jeff growled and pushed up on Misha's shoulders, rolling them both over so Misha was on his back now. It was better this way, better when he could press him down into the mattress, when he could feel the warm acquiescence of the body beneath his own as well as the firm want pressed against his thigh. And God did he want all of that, everything Misha would offer.

"Please."

"What do you want, darlin'?" Jeff slipped back into the drawl he'd picked up during his youth, the one that only came out when he was tired or too preoccupied with other things to think about covering it up.

A roll of hips was his answer, further evidence of just what exactly it was that Misha wanted. He chuckled softly, kissing Misha's neck when he threw his head back into the sinful softness of the pillow behind.

"I'll take care of you," he assured him, teeth dragging across sensitive skin, leaving it angry red before he soothed his tongue over the same path.

He wanted to give Misha all that he wanted now, and yet the twinge in his back and the ache of his muscles stopped him short. Maybe when he wasn't practically a cripple he could give them both what they so desperately wanted. Tonight, though, tonight he had something else in mind.

* * *

  
They left late the next morning, the sun already climbing in the sky. They'd found more food in the house they'd been staying in and were able to fill their water bottles. Jeff decided they should only keep two of the guns, along with his original; the others they emptied of bullets and hid away in the house before they'd left.

The road stretched out before them, and for the first time since he'd started this Godforsaken trip Jeff felt like he finally had a place to go when it was all over. A place he might even be able to call home in the end.

"Come on, then." Misha smirked as he started out ahead of Jeff.

"Yeah yeah, I'm comin'." He shook his head.

"Yeah I know, you're slow 'cause you're old," Misha supplied.

"Something like that."

"So how much longer you think we're going to be doing this?"

"Don't you worry about that, darlin', I'll know it when we get there." Jeff grinned and slung an arm around Misha's shoulders as they walked. It would still be a while before he was completely healed, before he walked without a limp and didn't ache when he lay down at night, but he was ready to start down that road.

 

_fin._


End file.
